


Something Worth Living For

by syredronning



Series: Rura Penthe AU [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, M/M, Multi, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: Kirk and McCoy survive, which brings unexpected changes to Spock's life.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Spock/Nyota Uhura, Spock/Valeris
Series: Rura Penthe AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546447
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Something Worth Living For

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story in my Rura Penthe AU series. All stories start with the premise that Kirk and McCoy couldn't be saved from Rura Penthe in ST VI, the Federation President is killed and a war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire takes place. What happens to our heroes? 
> 
> Klingon Vokabulary: So'Duy: hidden agent; roj: peace
> 
> Many thanks to Ayalesca for a wonderful edit! All remaining errors and flaws are solely mine.

The ship lay quiet, hidden, on the surface of the asteroid. Like a chameleon it blended into its surroundings, the multi-colored rocks and steep faces. It was a place well-chosen by the captain.

Qo'kah, the first officer, sat on his console, managing the repairs, barking Klingon commands into the speakers whenever someone was behind schedule. The So'Duy was an old Klingon war bird that the resistance cell had secured, damaged and almost out of order, after a Federation attack. The repairs had taken some time, but now it was basically the group's flagship, and had proven its worth and strength in many ambushes.

Not the least because of the new captain, Qo'kah had to admit. At first, he had opposed the idea of having a terratan in command of the ship. He had never really heard the human's name before, and didn't think highly of Starfleet, although the resistance group was planning to contact them now that the war seemed to go into its final showdown. Qo'kah's first impression of the new captain had not been good either; there had seemed to be no strength in the thin human body, no warrior's soul in the man. The captain soon laid out new strategies, made many plans and held many meetings, but how would he hold in a battle, Qo'kah - and most of the crew - wondered. On top of it, the human had brought his par'makai with him, who was ill and usually hid in their cabin, a useless load. It didn't bore well for the cell's future.

But within a month, they all revised their opinion. Elaborate battle drills increased the crew's skills quickly, and where they had often been chased by regular Klingon battle cruisers in the past before, the hunted soon became the hunter. The human spent much time in personal training, improving his fitness and martial skills, even enjoying a bat'leth fight with his first officer once in a while. The energy he regained soon spilled over to his bridge activity, and raised everyone's spirit. The captain's Klingonese commands might have an amusing accent, but having learned that they were sound and sensible, the crew soon obeyed them without questioning. The captain seemed to have a third sense for an enemy's next moves in a battle, often anticipating and counteracting them faster than the other ships could react. And still - if Qo'kah recognized a flaw in the captain's orders, he was allowed input and even critics, something a Klingon captain rarely welcomed.

At times, they sat together with other bridge officers for hours, scheming an elaborate attack plan against a supply line or base of the Empire. The discussions were always lively and sometimes fell apart over too much blood wine, ending in the noisy singing of operas - at which point the captain usually said good night and left. This unwillingness to join their rounds, even their celebrations after a successful battle, was the only fault Qo'kah could find in the human. But if anyone else of the crew commented on it, he was the first to defend the captain. This human was a true warrior, a veStaI', and even if he may have been forced to yield like iron under the sledgehammer in the last years, he was not broken. Whenever the red alert lights flickered, they mirrored in the captain's eyes, reflecting the excitement and challenge he felt. Qo'kah was honored to serve under this man, and it made him all the more determined to see these repairs handled as quickly as possible, healing the wounds that the ship had taken in a won fight against an overpowering enemy fleet.

He checked the engine status; three more hours before they would have full power restored on the warp drive. Turning away from the console, he was just thinking about getting a raktajino when an alert sounded. Qo'kah went to the navigator, and they quickly assessed the reason for the automatic alert. With a frown, Qo'kah stepped to the captain's chair and switched on the speaker.

"Bridge to captain," he barked into the line.

"Captain here," the human's calm voice came instantly in.

"There's a ship coming into our sector," Qo'kah said.

"Identity?"

"Not yet clear, but possibly Starfleet."

"Didn't think the front lines had moved so far," the captain replied, then added, "I'm right there with you. Captain out."

Qo'kah quickly talked to engineering, urging them to either getting done with the repairs as quickly as possible or to restore the weapons and shields at least to a functional level. While it was unlikely that they could be easily found here, with the asteroid's rocks and natural magnetism protecting them against scans, once they were located, the ship would be like targh meat ready for roasting. And that was the last thing he wanted to be, for the Empire or the Federation.

*

Spock diligently closed the last flap of his dark-red uniform and eyed the result in the mirror. For many years he had been wearing the captain's insignia on the dark red uniform, and still - at times they felt unfitting. Until two point five years ago, this had only been his rank, never really his function. With Jim's and the doctor's conviction to Rura Penthe, he had temporarily taken command of the ship. When rescuing them failed and the war started after the assassination of the Federation President, he was officially given the Enterprise. But it never really felt like his own ship; it was as if the ghost of his captain was following him around.

But that was illogical superstition. The captain seemed to have been alive at least six months ago. The pictures had been broadcasted in the Federation net, striking excerpts of a James T. Kirk admitting to having been part of a Federation conspiracy to kill the Klingon Chancellor. Spock himself had analyzed the recordings in detail. They seemed to be real, but if they were, Spock did not want to speculate under what circumstances Jim could have been brought to testify such a lie. The propaganda movie had possibly been taken on Qo'noS, as some further analysis by the Federation had divulged. It would explain why there had been no trace of Kirk and McCoy on Rura Penthe, when it had been freed two months ago. The Klingon databanks kept quiet in regards to the men's whereabouts, but Spock knew enough of Chang to assume that the Klingon would make good use of the prizes that had fallen in his hands so unexpectedly. During the trial, the universe had watched the proceedings and forced the Klingons to adhere to the rules of the civilized world; once the war had started, Spock doubted they would handle the prisoners accordingly.

In the movie, only Kirk could be seen; there was no trace of McCoy, and Spock feared the worst for the doctor. He should never have them let go…it should have been his responsibility to beam over, so that in case of a failed rescue, it would have been him to take the retaliations. As it was, his best friends had become the fallout victims of his scheme, and Spock never really could forgive himself for this result. It had overshadowed his life ever since, and not even his family could heal this wound yet.

His fingertips briefly touched the picture of his wife and his newborn daughter; an unexpected development in his life, and he knew that his friends would have been encouraging and supportive of this bonding. But with every joyful moment in his own life, Spock could not help but wonder where his friends were now, if they were still alive, and from which joyful moments of their own he had deprived them with his arrogant plan that had failed so spectacularly.

He sighed softly. Enough of this speculation. The war was developing into its final stage, and once Qo'nos had fallen, they would hopefully find out where the captain and the doctor were…even find them alive, although chances were that, given the Klingon's attitude about POWs, none of them would live to see the day of liberation. A quick end of the war was paramount, for his friends and everyone else. This war had been costly enough on the quadrant. It was time to finish it.

His intercom beeped, and Spock answered it instantly.

"Captain, we're approaching the coordinates," Commander Torre, his second-in-command, said. The sturdy Martian had been assigned to the Enterprise five months ago and proven to be a reasonably good officer, although their working relationship was far from the one Spock had shared with his colleagues in the past.

"Thank you, Commander," Spock said. "I will be with you shortly." He collected his thoughts for a moment. This mission was unusual; no information had been given but the coordinates and the orders that the enemy ship had to be destroyed by all means. Complete radio silence had been ordered for this stealth mission into one of the emptier, less interesting corners of the Klingon empire, and Spock wondered what the enemy vessel carried to be of such interest to Starfleet as to send a constellation class spaceship for its destruction.

He would probably never find out, Spock thought, and at last left for the bridge, straightening his back and leaving his private life behind as he turned into the captain of the Enterprise.

*

On the bridge of the So'Duy, Qo'kah was relieved when the captain arrived. The human took over command and listened to his first officer's system report, his calm easing the growing tension on the bridge. They didn't have visuals yet, but from the data of the long distance sensors, the approaching ship was huge - probably Galaxy class.

"Why would they send such a ship out here?" the captain mused, his eyebrows drawn together.

Qo'kah walked to the captain's side. "Orders, captain?"

The man waved. "We're going to wait. Maybe she'll just pass us."

All eyes rested on the schematic screens, watching the pattern of angular green lines coming closer.

With a deepening frown, the captain called engineering. "How long before visuals and short distance sensors?"

"Should be ready any minute, captain!" an irritated voice snapped.

"We don't have minutes," the captain snapped back. "Get it on!"

"I extrapolated their route," the navigator said. "They should pass us by 1000 kilometers."

The captain laced his fingers, sinking back in his chair. "No," he suddenly said and went up. "They're after us. Power the engines."

"Captain, we only have impulse drive. If we simply lay down, they may not find us."

"They know exactly where to find us," the captain said. "This is too much of a coincidence." He stepped down to the navigator's console. "Calculate a route that brings us right into the asteroid belt. We're much smaller than them. She won't fit in." Then he sat back into the center seat.

A soft shudder ran through the So'Duy as the engines were powered up. Gracefully, she lifted her wings from the dirt to hang above the asteroid's stony ground, ready for the final signal to depart.

It was at that moment that the visuals came in, and everyone looked up to stare at the enemy that filled the screen - a large, silver Starfleet battleship with distinct saucer and engine units.

Qo'kah saw the captain's eyes widening. When no order came, he quickly drew close, placing his hand on the human's shoulder. "Energy now, captain?" he suggested.

"Yes - yes," the captain said with a vague wave of his hand.

"Engage," Qo'kah barked at the navigator, and the ship lurched forward as a first phaser beam shot out of the enemy's hull down to the asteroid, leaving a path of dust and molten stones in their wake.

This finally broke the captain's reverie. "Yoq wej," he ordered quickly. "Evasive action."

"The weapons are online, captain," Qo'kah suggested. "We could answer their attack." "Not yet," the captain said, and waved the communication officer. "Call my cabin. Tell my friend to come to the bridge instantly."

*

Once it was clear that the enemy ship had lifted off to escape into the asteroid belt, Spock could feel the instinct of the hunter elevating the human bridge members. The first shot had missed, but the next two had at least streaked the left wing. The shields had held, though, and no damage had been done to the Klingon ship yet.

"Analysis," Spock said to his science officer. "What kind of ship is it?"

"An old Klingon Bird of Prey, although the systems have obviously been modified. Partly improved, partly reconfigured with other material. And sir - it carries no Empire emblem. Instead, the three triangles are restructured and now lay next to each other, like a three-fingered claw."

"A stealth weapon of the Klingons?" Torre mused.

"A race with regular stealth ships has no need for additional measures like that," Spock said. He apprehended the complexity in the bird's fluidly flown evasive maneuvers, which definitely had to challenge the ship's integrity.

"Damn, they're good," the weapons officer agreed with Spock's unspoken assessment. "I can barely get a hold on them."

"Would manual control make it easier for you?" Spock asked. Against all logic, sometimes human hunches were more successful than even the most complicated mathematically derived tracking functions.

"Maybe," the officer said with a little doubtful note.

"Try at your discretion."

The weapon's officer nodded and switched to manual control. The next two shots were closer but still not close enough.

"Sir -" the science officer said to gain Spock's notice. "I tried to find information about this ship in our databanks. It was reported to have been near Tringal III when the POW camp there was freed from Klingon troops. No hostile activity noted. Instead, it rather seemed to cover the rescue activity. Another report says that ships with the same symbol have attacked a Klingon outpost in the neighboring Tor sector."

"A resistance group?"

"Possible, sir."

Torre drew close to the captain. "Sir - the orders were clear. This ship has to be destroyed. We are not supposed to question that order."

"It would be a severe oversight not to gather information on this ship while we are in pursuit," Spock said calmly. "In the end, it is still my decision how the mission will be carried out." He looked at Uhura. She tilted her head. "Incoming hails with threats in typical Klingon style, but no identification. Shall I break radio silence?"

Torre's frown spoke volumes about her suggestion. "Not yet," Spock decided. He needed more than that for violating explicit orders.

He laced his fingers in thought.

*

Tension filled the bridge of the So'Duy, the flickering red alert adding to it. So far, the evasive maneuvers had kept the enemy from hitting the ship again, and they would enter the asteroid belt in only three minutes. The bridge officers hung in their seats, holding their breath as the ship danced through space on the navigator's orders.

As the bridge's door opened, Qo'kah briefly looked at the newcomer. It was the captain's par'makai, who limped to the center seat.

"Look," the captain said in Standard and pointed at the viewscreen.

His par'makai heavily leaned onto the back of the chair. "By god, it's the Enterprise. But why are they shooting on us?"

"Good question," the captain said. "They didn't answer our hails yet, so we've got to find something else." He went up from the center seat. "All engines stop," he ordered. "Lower the shields. Bring the weapons offline."

Every head snapped around. "Sir!" Qo'kah exclaimed, jumping up from his place at the weapon's control. "They will destroy us!"

"I don't think so." The captain walked to the communication officer. "Hail them. Tell them that we're ready to surrender. In Klingonese and Standard. Repeat on all frequencies."

"Surrender?" Qo'kah couldn't believe his ears. He approached the captain, wondering if he should stop him by force, if necessary. The man was agile, but wouldn't stand a chance against several united officers…

"He knows what he's doing," the par'makai said in Klingon. "Trust him."

The captain didn't even look at them, but gave quiet orders to the communication officer, pressing some buttons himself. Then he walked back to the center seat.

"Bring the shields and weapons down, petaQ!" the captain snapped.

"Yes, captain," Qo'kah said at last, which made everyone sink back in their seats and retreat from instant mutiny.

"Good. Slowly turn the ship by 45 degree so that they face our upper side."

"Captain - one shot and we're all dead," Qo'kah said pleadingly. "They are our enemy!"

"We'll see, we'll see," the captain said and signaled the communication officer. "Send the second message."

The par'makai placed one hand on the captain's shoulder. "I hope you're right," he said, "or else we'll be really dead for good."

"It's going to work," the captain said. "It has to."

*

Taken by surprise by the enemy ship's action, first officer Torre held his breath before delivering the new status.

"The ship stopped. Shields down, weapons down. It's like a dead duck."

"Incoming hail, in Klingonese and Standard, Captain," Uhura said. "They surrender."

Spock raised a brow.

"Captain, we should shoot now -" the first officer said.

"Not yet," Spock said.

Torre stepped down to the center seat. "Sir, please," he said. "The orders -"

"The orders may have been misleading," Spock said, leaning back. On the screen, the Klingon ship loomed with its most vulnerable part turned towards them. He would not shoot on a vessel that surrendered. There were too many questions arising, and the missing national emblem of the Empire was only one of them. This was no regular ship. The question was - what else was it?

"Captain!" Uhura called for him, urgency in her voice. He left his chair and walked to her console.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

"This." She pointed at the screen. "There's a second, underlying message coming in. But this code…there's only one man who should be able to send this."

Spock looked at it, automatically analyzing the pattern.

"It's Jim Kirk's private code. Only the three of us should even know about it," Uhura whispered urgently.

"We do not know what happened to the captain, and if anyone has succeeded in retrieving this information from him," Spock said calmly.

Uhura shook her head. "I doubt that. But why not reply with your old one, Sir? Asking for further identification?"

Spock nodded and watched her quickly composing the message before he authorized it with his private key.

"Sir, the orders -" Torre said again, but Spock waved him into silence. Half a minute went by before a new light flickered on the console. "Incoming call," Uhura said, slightly breathlessly. "Voice-only." On Spock's nod, she switched it to speakers.

"This is Captain Kirk of the So'Duy, from the resistance group roj. Spock, is that you in command?"

An excited gasp went through the bridge personnel, quickly substituted by a frown on their faces. The words were expected, but the voice was not. It sounded strange in its distorted pronunciation - not like a human and especially not like Kirk. Uhura shook her head.

Spock walked in front of his seat. "This is Captain Spock of the Enterprise. I would suggest visual contact to prove our respective identities."

"Spock, you pointy-eared hobgoblin! What the hell do you think you're doing? At least give us the favor of a little reunion before blowing us up!"

In contrast to the captain's voice, this was undoubtedly McCoy's rasping voice. Spock turned to Uhura for verification, and saw that she wiped a tear of sheer relief from an eye as she nodded in agreement. "Doctor McCoy," Spock said, using all of his control to keep the surge of emotion out of his voice, "May I say that I am pleased to find you both alive, even at this unexpected position and time."

"Same here, Spock," McCoy said.

"We can't give you visuals right now because our modulation unit is fried," Kirk's strange voice came in. "I suggest that Bones and I beam over for a little reunion with whatever is left of our old friends, and that you then beam to our ship for a little assessment of the situation afterwards. There are some important things to discuss."

"I agree," Spock said. "I will see you in our transporter room in five minutes."

"Make it ten, Spock," McCoy said. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Affirmative," Spock said. Uhura cut the line.

"It may be a trap, captain," Torre said.

"Unlikely. The offer to beam here first indicates that they do not need to hide their identities."

"Sir - they may not be the persons they appear to be."

"I will make sure of that myself," Spock said, and pushed a button on his chair. "Mr. Scott, please come to transporter room three." Spock looked at the communication station. "Commander Uhura, please come with me. Commander Torre, you have the bridge."

The first officer looked anything but pleased, but Spock ignored it. Followed by Uhura, he hastened down the turbolift and corridor to the transporter room. Scott had already manned the station.

"The Captain and Doctor McCoy? That we'd ever see them again!" he exclaimed as they informed him of the guests. "I'm ready, Sir, whenever they are."

Shortly after, the bridge gave the coordinates. Seconds later, two figures appeared on the platform, materializing agonizingly slowly, in Uhura's opinion.

Both men wore typical Klingon leather gear, which didn't hide that they were slimmer than in the past, even the doctor. Their faces were creased and the hair full of grey streaks. But when they saw the welcoming committee, there was a broad smile on their faces, and Kirk moved forward with a lightness and ease that showed his agility.

"Spock! Uhura! And Scotty!" He hopped down the platform and hugged them all, keeping each embrace for long seconds. McCoy moved much slower, obviously hampered in his movements but with the same easy smile on his face. He started the hugging with Uhura and then went from Scotty to Spock, taking Spock into such a hearty embrace that the Vulcan seemed unable to speak a single word. It was only when Uhura had recovered enough from the overwhelming thrill of seeing her lost friends again that she understood McCoy was wearing an exo-carcass on the left leg.

"I'm so damn glad to see you all," Kirk said. "Sorry for the confusion, but we didn't know how to interpret a Starfleet ship that started shooting on us for no good reason. That's why I thought sending my code might be a god idea."

"We will discuss the events in due time," Spock said. "You suggested your ship for that?"

"Yes. As I said, my ship belongs to a resistance group. They tried to get in contact with Starfleet already, but haven't managed to do so. It's important that we establish that contact today, easing the transition. The war's almost over, it's time for change - and not everyone's feeling good about that."

"Indeed," Spock said, understanding that Kirk had chosen this expression deliberately.

"Shall we beam over?" Kirk said. "Sorry for not inviting anyone else for now, but it's important to discuss some things."

"I agree," Spock said.

"Can't we have a minute to talk?" Uhura asked. "We thought you were on Rura Penthe, but there wasn't a trace of you found."

"We were transferred to Qo'noS shortly after the war started," McCoy said.

"And that's where we've been rotting on and off for more than two years, before a resistance cell freed us. They wanted me to captain a ship and become their fleet liaison." Kirk added.

"And what's with your voice, Sir?" Uhura asked.

"Synthetic larynx." Kirk gave her a lop-sided grin. "I know, I sound like a robot with a sore throat. It's a Klingon one."

A brief silence fell over the room.

"How's the ship?" Kirk asked at last.

"Aye, she's fine! And has a great captain," Scott said. "No insult, sir!" he added as he realized the possible misinterpretation.

"I know that Spock had it in him," Kirk said with a smile directed at the Vulcan. But there was a distance between them, Uhura noted, that hadn't been there in the past. McCoy leaned against Kirk, one hand on Kirk's left shoulder, to remove weight from the injured leg. Kirk had placed one hand around the doctor's hip, and the arrangement looked both intimate and complete. Something rang a bell in Uhura's subconscious, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

"Let's go," Kirk said.

McCoy came over to hug Uhura a last time, whispering in her ear, "I promise you'll hear more later."

"Good. Don't you dare vanish again," she said, fighting another tear of pure joy.

The three men took their positions and beamed out together.

"They're alive," Uhura spoke into the room when they were gone, realizing that it wasn't a particularly insightful thing to say.

"Yes, they are," Scott replied and put his arm around her shoulder, obviously sharing her profound feeling of unreality. "Almost couldn't believe it."

"I feel like celebrating."

"It's a bit early for that, I guess," Scott said. "There's something fishy about this mission. Let's find out." They separated and went to the bridge.

*

On the So'Duy, the men were greeted by two of the ship's officers. Kirk helped McCoy down the two steps and then introduced his first officer Qo'kah, a large Klingon, and the female security officer Ekbey to the Vulcan.

"There're more crewmembers. I could give you a trip to the bridge, if you want to," he said to Spock.

"After the meeting, maybe," Spock said. "It is paramount that we discuss the events of today."

"Okay." Kirk nodded after a silent exchange of gazes with McCoy. "We'd like to invite you to our cabin afterwards, for a little private conversation," he added. "But first things first."

They went to a nearby room which had just enough seats for the small group.

"Qo'kah is also my contact to the resistance group," Kirk said. "They are operative for a year now, and when I came onboard, we started operating in the Maret sector, because it was barely secured by the Empire. Qo'kah?" He handed over to the Klingon.

"We tried to contact Starfleet, but were unsuccessful so far," the Klingon said in rough Standard.

"Was it your ship on Tringal III?" Spock asked. "Your appearance there had been noted, but no contact was established."

"Yes, that was this ship," Qo'kah said. "But we didn't feel confident to contact at that time. It was before the captain took over. For centuries, the Federation has been our enemy. Old habits die hard."

Ekbey nodded sharply.

"So - why the attack today?" Kirk asked. "You've had our coordinates, didn't you?"

"Yes," Spock agreed. "I had been given orders to destroy this ship by all means. Total radio silence should be kept for this mission. I broke it when I received your code."

"There's no reason Starfleet should want us destroyed," Qo'kah stated. "We never attacked them. And it should be clear that we're not a regular ship of the Empire's fleet."

"The orders came from Starfleet headquarters. Colonel West himself has signed them." Spock saw Kirk and McCoy exchanging a gaze. "They didn't seem to be falsified."

"I agree. They are probably real," Kirk said. "There are people who'd like to see us dead."

"In Starfleet?" Spock raised a brow.

"Yes," McCoy said. "You should know that we're only here onboard for four months. Before that, we've been on Qo'nos for a long time. We know some things that shouldn't become known in the Federation space."

Qo'kah frowned. "You never told us," he said sharply. "You endangered this vessel."

"I didn't think that's relevant for a group who puts someone rescued out of Chang's dungeon right into command of a ship," Kirk said with a shrug. "You know how hard the Klingons tried to find us."

The first officer fell silent, but the frown remained.

"So, what now?" Ekbey asked Spock. "Do you still want to destroy us?"

"Not at all," Spock replied. "I will relay to them the nature of this ship and its organization. I may, however, not inform them about Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy for the moment. I would like to establish an official contact with your group that will foster collaboration in this sector, once the Klingons' troops pull out."

"I will organize that," Qo'kah said. "But it needs time. Five hours at least."

"I believe we have that much time," Spock replied. "No Klingon activity was detectable within the long distance scan range."

Kirk agreed. "This corner is as good as lost for them already. We drove away the last ships two days ago." He dismissed the two Klingons, then said, "Let's go to our cabin for a more private discussion."

They all went up and walked into the corridor together.

"Still want a tour of her, Spock?" Kirk asked. "I've got to admit, I'm a little proud of this vessel," he added and rubbed his hands. Spock agreed, and they turned to the left.

"Bones?" Kirk asked as he noted McCoy was lagging behind.

"No thanks. You go and show him the ship. I'll wait for you in our quarters," McCoy said, and slowly hobbled into the other direction.

Kirk led Spock down a dark corridor.

"May I inquire what caused the doctor's injury?" Spock asked in the lift.

"A drunken Klingon, six months ago," Kirk said, his features shadowing. "Bones wanted to protect someone. Sometimes it worked; in that case it didn't, and his left side took the brunt. His leg hasn't been the same ever since." He fell silent until they reached their goal.

"The bridge," he said and smiled again. "It's not the Enterprise, but it's a good ship, with a good, determined crew." He showed the Vulcan through most of the ship, which wasn't that much given its limited size, before they reached their destination at last.

"Our quarters," Kirk said and opened the door. The room was small but comfortable, with a little office corner, one large bed and a long couch with a curved ending in front of a little table. McCoy was standing in a nearby corner, next to a collection of bottles and glasses.

"Haven't come far yet," he said. "Anyone wants a drink?" He poured himself a glass. "Have one too, Jim? Spock? It looks like alcohol, but is more like ginger ale. There's no ethanol." Spock agreed and McCoy made it two more glasses.

"To old friend," McCoy said and toasted first Spock, then Kirk.

"To old friends," they echoed and downed the drinks. A second filling was handed out, before McCoy awkwardly moved to the couch. He placed down the glass and slowly sank into the cushion in the corner, keeping the lame leg straight and over the edge of the seat.

"Want to get it off?" Kirk asked, and McCoy nodded. Quickly, Kirk helped opening and removing the tight exo-carcass, then pulled off the shoes. Spock didn't miss the flickers of pain that crossed McCoy's face in the process, but the doctor didn't complain. When the medical support was gone, McCoy leaned back, stretching his left leg with a sigh. "No matter how well-designed they are, a human's body isn't made for wearing these things."

"Your drink," Kirk said and handed him the glass again.

"Thanks, love," McCoy replied. He offered his lips and Kirk placed a kiss on them, a sequence of movements that seemed ingrained. McCoy captured Spock's gaze.

"Just ask, Spock," he said.

"You are in a relationship?" Spock asked. While he realized it was none of his concern, he was partly surprised, as both humans had always appeared to be solely heterosexual. On the other hand, they had obviously grown even more together through the imprisonment, and by Vulcan standards it was immensely logical for close friends to bond.

"Yes, we are," Kirk said and sat down on the couch next to McCoy, allowing the doctor to rest against his chest. Putting his arm around McCoy's left shoulder, he added, "Even before our last mission together. We wanted to tell you but you were away. And when that doomed peace mission started, there wasn't the time and place to inform you."

"That is the reason you went with him?" Spock asked the doctor.

"No, I'd have gone anyway. Never liked letting Jim go alone when things got tight, and I really thought they could use a doctor. Not that I was of much help," McCoy added sadly.

"Long time gone," Kirk said with a frown, and Spock realized they had had that discussion before.

"May I inquire what knowledge you possess that would make your extinction so important?" Spock asked, clasping his hands.

"This war wasn't just coming upon us from a chance series of things going wrong. It was set up. Staged. The death of the Federation President was only the last step," Kirk said.

"By whom?"

"By various fractions…including Starfleet and Federation members."

"Starfleet?" Spock raised a brow. "You are sure?"

Both men nodded. "We've spent the last months collecting hard proofs to add to what we've found out from hearsay," Kirk said. "We haven't come as far as we'd have liked to, but it will be enough."

"And you want to carry this knowledge to Earth now?"

"Seems we better do that soon, before we meet another Starfleet ship whose captain doesn't question his orders," Kirk said. "Last thing we want is being killed right before calling these bastards to account."

"My first officer did not agree with my liberal interpretation of orders," Spock said. "I wonder now if he has information I have not."

"What's his name?" Kirk asked.

"Torre. Roslon Torre."

"Never heard of him," Kirk said. "But of course, there's no telling just how far the organization reaches. I'm sure that you've got a least one informer on the Enterprise."

"Which would endanger your well-being."

Kirk shrugged. "With all of your bridge overhearing our welcome, it's only a question of hours before the news breaks."

"And yet, you seem unconcerned about our waiting here?"

"I need a little time to give my center seat over to Qo'kah. I can't just leave the resistance without doing that for them."

Spock nodded.

"Why don't you tell us what you've been up to in the last years, Spock?" McCoy asked. "And I'd like to hear something uplifting. No lamenting about our absence."

"Your absence, gentlemen," Spock stated slowly, "even if you do not want to hear that, has strongly impacted my life. I felt responsible, and was unable to reconcile the guilt connected to the events for a long time. However, other positive events have also taken place. I am married and have a daughter of three months."

"That's great, Spock!" McCoy slightly rose from his seat, lifting his glass. "Who's the lucky gal?"

"You remember Lieutenant Valeris?" Spock said. "After your conviction, when the war began, she became an important person in my life. We bonded fourteen months ago."

"You're a father. A family man. Can't quite believe it," McCoy said, but the smile didn't reach his eyes anymore.

"Anything wrong, doctor?" Spock asked.

"Not at all, Spock," Kirk said. "We're happy for you. Really, we are."

A brief silence fell over them.

"So…what are our plans now?" McCoy asked. "Simply flying back to Earth with the Enterprise?"

"You know, Captain, that you are wanted for arrest in Federation space?" Spock said cautiously.

"I guessed as much," Kirk said. "My little movie star stint, I suppose?"

"This is not to be taken lightly. It might keep you from being able to uncloak the conspiracy."

"It might also make it so much easier. We're going to Earth for the hearing and then, bang, we're going to expose the plan. Yes, I think that's a good solution."

"If you were found guilty of collaboration with the enemy, you could face further imprisonment," Spock said.

"I doubt they'd convict a hero." Kirk smiled aslope. "I'll take the risk."

"Doctor, what is your opinion?" Spock asked the man who had been silent for the last minutes.

McCoy shrugged. "It's Jim's decision…and I think he's right. We're ready to go home. And believe me, a hearing on Earth is a small thing compared to what we had to go through on Qo'nos."

Spock tilted his head. "It is nothing we have to decide tonight, gentlemen. We should have at least four hours until the contact with the resistance base will be established. This will give us all ample time to think through the options."

"You're right," Kirk agreed.

"I need to leave now. But we will speak later." Spock rose from his seat.

Kirk quickly called one of his men to bring the Vulcan back to the transporter room. "Sorry for that," he said apologizing, "but we're not yet allies."

"I understand, Jim." Spock bent down, motioning McCoy to stay seated. "Doctor," he said, and then clasped the human's hand for a moment, conveying in the touch the emotions he could not voice. "We will see each other soon." McCoy nodded mutely.

"Good bye for now, Jim," Spock said and turned to his former captain. Kirk hugged him briefly, then opened the door for his departure.

Eight minutes later, Spock was back on his own ship, analyzing everyone's options.

*

When the door closed, McCoy rubbed over his face. "Oh damn," he whispered.

Kirk nodded.

"We've got to tell him soon," McCoy said. "Spock and Valeris…just what we feared. Even a kid. That's going to be messy."

"I know. But I couldn't bring myself to do it right now." Kirk sat down behind McCoy and stroked the tense shoulders. "What about going to bed?" he asked.

"Me or you or both of us?" McCoy asked back, then yawned. "You don't seem tired at all."

"I'll put you in bed and see what we can do," Kirk said. He left his seat and walked around to bend over McCoy's groin, opening the hidden zippers left and right on the outer side of the rather stiff leather pants. It allowed them being opened without pulling anything down the leg, which would have been a painful procedure for McCoy.

"I'm glad we found the Enterprise," Kirk said. "What about getting checked in their sickbay, see if they can do something for your leg right away?"

McCoy frowned. "We could do that, but I'm not going to let you fly alone, Jim!"

"As if I'd leave my lucky charm behind."

"You would, if you thought it was the best thing to do," McCoy said. "But I've lived with the injury for some months now, and won't die if it takes a little while longer." He caressed Kirk's lower arms that were within his reach. "Promise me you won't fly anywhere without me," he insisted.

"Promised, Bones." Kirk pulled away the pants and put them away. After helping McCoy out of jacket and shirt too, he took the nude man into his arms and carried him over to the bed. He gently put him down, all the while knowing that no matter how careful he was, there'd still be pain caused by the movement.

McCoy watched him, head propped up on one hand, the other on his stomach, as Kirk stripped out of his own clothes. "Remember how we wondered about asking Spock out…" his voice trailed off.

Kirk nodded, turning to the bed after having discarded his outfit on a nearby chair. "At that time, it seemed like a good idea," he said. "But now…"

"Yes, too much changed." McCoy lay down on his back. "Back then he seemed like our natural extension. But after having been away for so long, everything changed. We changed. And besides, he's married."

"Probably not for eternity," Kirk said. "Unfortunately." He knelt down on the bed next to McCoy's right, good leg. Then he put his hand on McCoy's soft member, stroking it gently.

"Do we have the time for that?" McCoy asked with half-closed eyes. "And was that me or my talking about Spock?" he teased as he eyed Kirk's growing erection.

"Everything," Kirk said. "It's been a while…and I feel strangely in love tonight. Realizing again how very lucky we've been to survive. And that I wouldn't have made it without you, and not just for that larynx surgery that saved my life."

"Same here," McCoy replied softly. He reached out for Kirk's head and pulled him down into a kiss. It was deep, long and probing, and they were both breathing hard by the end of it. Kirk placed a few kisses down McCoy's body and gently sucked one nearby nipple for a moment, then hit right on target and took the blooming erection into his mouth.

McCoy rocked against him as the arousal grew, both hands on Kirk's head, stroking the hair, putting some inviting pressure on the back of his head.

Finally, Kirk sat up, meeting McCoy's gaze. "I'd love to sit down on you, would that be all right?" There weren't many positions that were comfortable for McCoy in his current state, and this was only one that allowed intercourse. McCoy nodded, and Kirk reached to his bedside table and got the lube. He graciously applied it to McCoy's hard member, then put some on his own rear entry, slipping a first finger inside to prepare his body.

McCoy sighed. "Love watching you when you do that," he said and briefly stroked his own member, distributing the lube even further. "Come on, Jim."

Kirk straddled McCoy. There was always that moment of forcing himself to go through with penetration; given the last years, standard psychology would say it should be the last thing he wanted. But past be damned - he wouldn't let the Klingons dictate the terms of his love life. This was about Bones and him, no one else. Determined, he guided McCoy's member into him and lowered himself onto the erection.

"Oh damn, that's good." McCoy muttered. His right hand searched and found Kirk's erection, closing around it.

Kirk inhaled deeply as the skilled fingers took him on a ride, experienced and knowing. He bent over and placed his hands left and right of McCoy's body, then started fucking himself on his lover's hard organ. He concentrated on the feel, marveling on that gift of love and closeness he'd never have thought to find in McCoy. True, it had started even before their last mission, with a first, never-planned kiss in the kitchen of Kirk's apartment that had left them both a little surprised and confused, but they had quickly found out when moving from kissing to other things that they wanted exactly this - to get even closer, to share something they hadn't shared in the past. And it had felt good from the very first moment on - no, better than good: natural. They'd both had a little experience with men, but they agreed that gender wasn't the point between them. It was the friendship that just had been upped a level, the core of what pulled them together. Which had added the additional thought: what about Spock? Yes, a possibility, they had agreed, but Spock had been away on a mission and they had had no clue how to break the news and still leave an invitation open. And then the mission had gone downhill, and the question never arose again.

Time's gone, Kirk thought and smiled down on McCoy. The last years had made them inseparable, and he'd no doubt they'd continue like that.

McCoy smiled back at him. "When my leg's fine again," he whispered, "I'm going to fuck you senseless."

"That a promise?" Kirk chuckled and then gasped as McCoy's touch on his erection got more intense, closing his eyes involuntarily. The ride got faster as their arousal propelled them forward, and Kirk's movements got quicker, rocking the bed underneath them. For a while he tried hard, but sometimes he couldn't gather enough speed or momentum to make McCoy come, and it seemed today was one of those days.

He opened his eyes, and instantly stilled his movements as he saw McCoy's contorted face.

"Damn, Bones, told you to say stop when it's too much," he groaned accusingly. He lifted his butt off the erection and sat back over the good leg, substituting his ass with his right hand.

"I know - I'm sorry," McCoy muttered. "I didn't want it to end yet." His breathing and his member were still hard, but a tangible pain lay in the words, which didn't escape Kirk.

"Okay," Kirk only replied and worked on McCoy with his hand, increasing the rhythm so that anything else would be dispelled from his lover's brain. He soon reached his goal, and was excited when McCoy came with a first hard jerk, spilling his cum all over Kirk's hand in several large gushes.

"Come on," McCoy urged him breathlessly seconds later, and Kirk went on all fours above him, allowing him laying a hand on his erection. Expert fingers started milking him, and he only lasted a few minutes before his own orgasm broke and he shot his load all over McCoy's stomach with a groan.

"Great mess," he murmured, half sinking down into it as his body slacked.

"Wonderful mess," McCoy whispered and used his sticky hand to pull Kirk into a kiss. Their breathing slowly leveling down to normal, they caressed each other for a moment before Kirk rolled to the side.

"Now I've really got to take a shower. Thanks, Bones." He fetched a towel and rubbed their chests dry.

"Only wanted to make sure that you do," McCoy teased.

Kirk remembered something. "Next time, you tell me when it hurts," he said with a frown.

"I like it too much, and always think I'd be able to stand it just a little bit longer…just enough to come, or see you come," McCoy admitted.

Kirk nodded. He could relate to that, but was still occasionally annoyed about McCoy's masochistic behavior. It was about time to get this leg fixed. "Need a hypo?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll take care of that. You go and take a shower, captain," McCoy said.

"Okay." Kirk left the bed and walked to the bathroom, stopping in its door. "You know…we've got to tell him later. There's no way around it."

"I know," McCoy replied. He leaned over to grab the hypo, raising it into the air. "That's the good thing about physical pain. You can help it with a drug. But with the inner pain, it ain't that easy. Not even for a Vulcan." He gave himself a shot, and Kirk could see the tension leave McCoy's body - but the drug also dampened the alertness and life in his eyes. Having been on the receiving side of neo-morphine for a while, Kirk could understand why McCoy always tried to get through the day with the lowest dosage possible.

"Yes." Kirk heaved a sigh. "Well - I'll be right back," he said and left for the shower. When he returned, McCoy was asleep. He quietly donned his clothes and left for the bridge, preparing for Qo'kah taking over the ship as the new captain.

*

Three hours later, the first official contact between the resistance group and the Federation was established, and the handover with Qo'kah was settled. Kirk had asked Spock to come onboard the Klingon's cruiser once more, and Spock agreed without asking for an explanation. When he was led to their cabin, there was already a bag placed aside.

"First of all, you should take this," Kirk said and gave Spock a small piece of raw dilithium. "You can always claim it's a little souvenir from Rura."

"It's also a little fountain of information, in case anything goes wrong," McCoy said, leaned against the back of the chair.

Spock took the crystal. Its erratic structure was a perfect cover for quantum encoded data. "Thank you. I hope I will not need this." He put it away.

"We've made our decision. We want to give ourselves over to Starfleet authorities," Kirk said. "But not to the Enterprise under your command. You've got to call another ship."

Spock straightened. "Another ship? Do you not trust me?" His eyes flickered between the two men in front of him; men he had formerly called his best friends. There seemed a gap between himself and them, and he wondered if it was solely caused by their intimate relationship and their experiences of the last years.

"Spock…this has got nothing to do with you," McCoy said. "But there's something about the conspirators we didn't share with you yet. Something we've got to tell you now."

Spock's chest tightened. There was something alarming in the expression on their faces, compassion and sorrow, and from deep down his subconscious, a suspicion rose, only to be verified an instant later.

"It's got to do with Valeris," Kirk started.

*

They met up with another Starfleet ship a few hours later. The "Calypso" was a small cruiser, with good weaponry and a high maximum speed. She was captained by Donna E'Tilla, a student of Kirk's eight years ago at the academy. It was just the right ship to bring them home.

They would also be assigned two security guards. E'Tilla had agreed to the arrangement after having been informed by Spock that the lives of Kirk and McCoy might be endangered due to certain information they possessed. It was paramount that this information would be brought to Earth and divulged in the hearing.

After saying goodbye to their comrades of the resistance group, Kirk and McCoy made a brief detour via the Enterprise's transporter room again, saying goodbye to Scotty and Uhura for now. They'd talked all they needed to talk with Spock already in their last meeting, and could only hope that the Vulcan would find a good way to deal with his newfound knowledge.

When they beamed on to the "Calypso", together with their one large bag, there was a little welcoming committee of three waiting for them.

"Permission to come onboard?" Kirk asked as they had materialized.

"Yes, sir. Welcome onboard," E'Tilla said seriously, a sturdy young woman with short dark hair, then broke into a big smile. "Jim, you old vagabond," she said and met him halfway, taking him into a hearty embrace. "Didn't think I'd ever see you again." She set him free and faced his companion who walked down the two stairs from the platform more slowly, his left leg in an exo-carcass. "Doctor McCoy, welcome onboard the Calypso. And congratulations on your rescue." They shook hands.

"Thank you, Captain," McCoy said. "It's good to know we're safe for now."

"My pleasure to have you here," she said. Then she got serious again. "Captain James T. Kirk - according to Starfleet Regulation 1233.13 article b, I've got to take you under arrest."

"Yes."

"I want to get arrested too, please," McCoy said. "I'm his partner in crime."

"I really don't feel like arresting any of you, sir, but as I was already informed that you wanted to share a cabin, I felt free to give you our best guest quarters under the condition that you swear to me not to attempt any escape."

"I swear," Kirk said. McCoy did the same, and added, "Last thing I want to do is escape from cozy 'Fleet beds and long, hot showers."

"And a modern sickbay," one of the men in the background added, and stepped forward.

"My CMO - Dr. Martens," E'Tilla said.

The doctors shook hands. "My pleasure to finally meet you, sir. Sickbay is ready for a check on your leg whenever you are," Martens said.

"That's a great idea," Kirk said. "Go right with him, Bones. We'll see each other later."

"Yes, sir," McCoy said amused and gave Kirk a little hug. "Take care of the luggage, will ya?"

"Sure."

The doctors left together, already deep in discussion when the door closed behind them.

"My first officer, Lio No." The men greeted each other, then Donna laced her arm with Jim's. "I'll show you to your quarters, and there we can have a drink and talk a little. Lio, you've got the con."

A crewman took care of the luggage, and Kirk followed her lead through the corridors of the small cruiser to medium-sized quarters with a large bed and two little windows out into space. Adjacent, there was a bathroom with a shower and a toilet.

"It's a little small, but it's the biggest we have. We're not Galaxy Class," E'Tilla said apologizing.

"It's perfectly all right," Kirk said.

"And you really wanted only one bed?" she asked. "Are you…?" She waved her hand.

"Yes," he said amused. "We are together."

"Never would've thought you're into men," E'Tilla said. "Surely didn't have that impression when we had that little one-night-stand."

Kirk shrugged, deciding that explaining the whole story wasn't worth the time right now.

"As long as you're happy," she said at last.

"I am."

"I wondered if you'd like to speak about the last two years a little," E'Tilla said.

"Actually, no." Kirk sat down on the bed and unlaced his boots.

"I understand. It's just that…a good friend of mine was captured by the Klingons six months ago, and I wondered if you might know anything about her. Her name's Andrea Fellon, she was lieutenant commander on the Aries." E'Tilla pulled a photograph out of her pocket. "You haven't seen her, have you?"

Kirk took the picture. It was a snapshot, taken on a bright summer day. Two young women leaned against each other, waving into the camera. "That's Andrea," Donna said unnecessarily, and pointed at the tall woman on the right, with a great figure and long blond hair down to the slim waistline. "She's a really good friend of mine. I hope she's well…but we've heard a few real bad stories about what Klingons do to POWs."

Images flashed through Kirk's brain, the memory of the evening on which he'd almost lost McCoy…because in an act of useless chivalry, Bones had tried to keep a drunken Klingon away from that same beautiful girl. What had become of her, he didn't know; seeing McCoy going down to the ground had pushed everything else out of his focus. But knowing the usual fate of female prisoners, it wasn't hard to imagine.

"No, sorry, I've never seen her," he said at last and gave the picture back to her.

Donna took it and looked down on it. "Are the stories true?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know what they consist of," Kirk said.

"That the Klingons treat all Federation prisoners like cattle. And there are rumors that all women, well… get raped."

"In a war, things like that happen," Kirk said neutrally, relieved that she didn't look him into the eye to read his true feelings about the subject. The hearing wouldn't be open to the general audience, and he was glad for that. He got up from the bed. "I think I'm going to take a shower."

"Of course," she said and straightened, going from old friend to Captain of her own ship. "If you need anything, Captain Kirk, don't hesitate to call me."

"Thank you, Captain E'Tilla," he said formally. When she had gone, he sank down on the bed again, falling asleep before being able to give a second thought to the shower.

*

The ship's sickbay wasn't as large as that on the Enterprise, but it was well-equipped, so Martens could indeed take care of McCoy's most prominent health issues. McCoy was glad to be able to lower the painkiller dosage by half after two micro-surgeries, and occasionally to walk with a cane instead of the exo-skeleton. It was still strenuous, and extensive physiotherapy would be necessary on Earth, but it was a considerable improvement on the situation of the last months.

Not keen on having visitors, Kirk and McCoy spent most of their time alone in their cabin, sleeping or talking about the hearing. Once in a while, they had dinner with the captain and other members of the bridge crew, but they didn't foster the socializing. People kept asking questions about their fate, about Rura Penthe and Qo'noS and Klingons in general, and none of the men really wanted to talk about that. And worse, maybe, were the unspoken questions, as about the Klingon propaganda movie that had featured Kirk so prominently. They brought a certain underlying tension to their round tables, so Kirk and McCoy were always relieved when the dinners ended and they could hide in their quarters again.

It was the evening before their scheduled arrival on Earth, and they sat in bed together, McCoy with a PADD about Klingon physiology in his lap and Kirk with a book that Donna had found for him, some old novel about musketeers. After a while, McCoy put the PADD aside and started watching Kirk's face.

Kirk turned his head to him with a questioning frown. "Anything wrong, Bones?"

"Just wondering…"

Kirk closed the book and put it away, then turned to McCoy. "About what?"

"Well, we never really talked about - us."

"Us?" Kirk propped his head on his hand, elbow in the pillow, the other hand on his hip. "Is there something we should talk about?"

"Well, right now we're pretty inseparable."

"Yes. And?"

"Just wanted to say…if you ever feel like what we have isn't…enough or something, just tell me. Don't feel obliged to be stuck with me."

"Bones?" Kirk frowned deeply. "What's going on in your head? Is that your way of telling me that you want to end our relationship?"

"Not at all. I just want to make sure that, well…no matter how much we've gone through together, when we're back on Earth, things may change between us. And if they do, we should deal with that, and not just getting stuck with a status quo."

Kirk placed his hand on McCoy's right leg. "I can't see us parting ways any time in the future. But if that should suddenly happen, then we'll deal with it."

"You're not taking me seriously," McCoy admonished.

"No, I'm not." Kirk sat up, drawing closer. "Get off your psychological high horse and stop playing doomsayer. I'm nervous about the hearing too, but we'll face it and get over with it. And after that, we're going to buy a little house on the countryside and enjoy life."

"You're a hopeless romantic," McCoy said softly, brushing his forefinger over Kirk's lower lip. "I was stuck in a status quo once, and it cost me my marriage."

"I refuse to be compared to your neurotic ex-wife."

"That's not what I meant to imply," McCoy stated, annoyed.

"Then don't do it," Kirk answered. "Let's switch off the lights. It's going to be a long day tomorrow, and we've got to look good for all the press pictures."

McCoy sighed deeply. "Once again…why couldn't we just be two normal, uninteresting people in this galaxy?"

Kirk grinned. "You tell me, katra carrier."

"That wasn't my fault. It was always the two of you getting me into that crap."

"Yes," Kirk agreed. "I'm sorry for that."

"Well…it's obviously my part in life to save your asses," McCoy said, finally breaking into a smile that brightened his features. "Lights off," he stated, and the room darkened.

"Good night, Bones," Kirk said and searched McCoy's lips for a kiss. They just had settled into the cushions when the call came in.

"Captain E'Tilla to Jim Kirk."

Kirk instantly rose to answer it, switching the light on again. "Jim here. What's the matter?"

"I thought you'd like to know that as of today, most of Qo'nos is under Starfleet's control. The war is almost over."

"Great." Kirk met McCoy's eyes. "What about Chang? Was he captured?"

"He's dead."

"He's dead?" Kirk asked. Next to him, McCoy sat up. "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. They broadcasted some pictures of his dead body over a secure channel. His chest was ripped open in a torpedo detonation. You want to see them?"

The men exchanged another gaze. McCoy shrugged. "No, thanks," Kirk said finally. "We believe you. Thanks a lot for informing us. Kirk out." He switched off the line.

"He's dead, Bones," he whispered, a tinge of disbelief swinging in his voice.

"Yes, Jim," McCoy said, putting his arms around his lover's shoulders.

Kirk heavily leaned against him. "Never again…"

"Yes." McCoy tightened his embrace as he felt a tremble rising from deep within Jim. "Never again."

*

The space liner was only one point three hours away from Shi'Kahr, and Spock would have preferred to have a cabin of his own for the hearing's opening of Kirk and McCoy in Starfleet Headquarters today, two weeks after their arrival on Earth. Instead, he was sitting in the first class compartment, neighbored by other Vulcans and a few aliens.

Tightening his control, he straightened in his armchair. He would have to adjust to the surrounding; he wouldn't want to miss any of the transmission. Determined, he opened his portable computer and connected to the high security transmission from Earth. Not wanting to let any sound escape even his headphones, he switched off the sound and followed the transcription beneath the images instead. The hall was slowly filling, but Kirk and McCoy already sat side by side in full dress behind a table, McCoy's left leg propped up on a third, cushioned chair, a cane leaning against it. Both looked serious and reserved. They had a Starfleet lawyer at their side.

When the commission entered, everyone went up from their seats but McCoy. Besides some smaller figures in the background, it foremost consisted of Admiral Ho, Commodore Jenning and Admiral Barstow, all of them well-known Starfleet brass, two of them lawyers. Only Barstow had real command experience, for all Spock know. He laced his fingers as the hearing began.

Ho: Thank you, gentlemen, for coming. This hearing is for Captain James Kirk, former commander of the Enterprise, and Doctor Leonard McCoy, who both recently returned from Klingon space after having received a life sentence by the Klingon Empire thirty-one months ago. The accusations pending are betrayal of secrets and collaboration with the enemy. You asked to appear together in the hearing, based on your recent filing of a marriage contract. My congratulations to that. Therefore, you may refuse statements if you would incriminate your partner. Do you understand all implications?

Kirk: Yes, sir. We understand.

McCoy: Yes, sir.

Ho: Please start your story, preferably with the arrival at Rura Penthe.

Kirk: After our conviction, we were transported to Rura Penthe. There was the plan to escape from there -

Ho: How?

Kirk: Captain Spock had put a viridium patch on my uniform, and if we had been able to leave the shielding of the mine, he should have been able to pick up the signal and retrieve us.

Ho: But this never happened.

Kirk: No. We later learned that the original Klingon plan had been to help us escaping and then shooting us on the run. However, the plan was suddenly changed, and we were thrown in two separate cells. For days, none of us knew what was going on, and if the other one was still alive. Then we were brought out and told that a war had broken out, and that we'd be transported to Qo'noS for interrogation. The order came from Chang himself, at least that's what they told us. We were taken to a Klingon cruiser. They chained us and brought us to Qo'noS.

Ho: How long did the flight take?

Kirk: No idea. I'm sure someone will calculate it for you.

Ho: Were you treated well?

Kirk: They didn't exactly cater to our needs, there wasn't much food or water, but it was bearable. We were mostly left alone.

Ho: What happened on Qo'noS?

Kirk: We were brought right into a Klingon dungeon. They wanted information, as much and as quickly as possible, while my knowledge was still valid. We had to strip out of uniform, and they began to interrogate us.

Ho: Captain Kirk, you admitted beforehand that you have given some sensitive information to the Klingons during the interrogation. Please tell us how that came to pass.

Kirk: The Klingons knew that Doctor McCoy and I were very good friends, and started the interrogation not by torturing me, but by forcing me to watch Doctor McCoy being mistreated. The less pleased they were by my answers, the more he was abused.

Ho: Is it correct that you were already in a sexual relationship at that time?

Kirk: We had extended our longstanding friendship by adding a new level, correct. But they didn't know that. Nobody besides us knew it at that time. And it didn't have an influence on my decisions - I would've done the same for my friend.

Ho: Tell us more about the interrogation, please.

Kirk: They hung Doctor McCoy up by his wrists. The wrists and ankles were tied to spreader bars. They beat him and used pain sticks on every part of his body. They didn't give him water and food, while forcing me to have some in between. The interrogation went on for a long time, I don't know exactly for how long. We weren't allowed to sleep.

Ho: Where were you?

Kirk: I was sitting on a chair, my hands tied to the armrests, my ankles tied to its legs. They were asking me questions, and whenever they were displeased with the answers - which they usually were - they took it out on McCoy. We had agreed before that neither of us would divulge information, no matter the conditions of the interrogation…but I found that this was hard to keep up. I could see how much he suffered and that the dehydration took a big toll on him. So I gave them bits and pieces of information about Starfleet organization and ship's technique which I thought less important or easily researched by them, in exchange for some water and a moment of alleviation for Doctor McCoy. However, they never took him down from the bars and I feared the worst for him.

Ho: So you ended the interrogation by further divulging information?

Kirk: No, I finally had to accept that I wouldn't be able to save him in that situation. They kept torturing him for a while longer without getting anything more out of me. In the end, it was the Klingon medical officer who put an end to it. It was important for Chang that we survived to be used in future propaganda. McCoy's life was endangered at that point, so he ordered them to take him down.

Ho: What were the results of the torment?

Kirk: Doctor McCoy was suffering from severe dehydration. His arms and shoulders were damaged, he couldn't feel his hands for weeks. His whole body was heavily bruised and he was in pain for quite some days.

Ho: What happened after Doctor McCoy had been released?

Kirk: They started to interrogate me, while McCoy was tied to the chair I'd formerly inhabited.

Ho. Tell us about it.

Kirk: Do I have to…? I didn't give them further information, and he didn't either.

Ho: Other prisoners interrogated by Klingons reported beatings, general humiliation and sexual assaults.

Kirk: … And…?

Ho: Captain, sexual assault is a very severe torture that may be able to bring a man to do things he wouldn't consider otherwise.

Kirk: I didn't give them any more information.

Ho: Although they subjected you to the described tortures.

Kirk: Yes.

Ho: When did your interrogation end?

Kirk: When they found that they'd reached the end of their methods. As I said, Chang wanted to use us for propaganda. So, for example, the faces were usually spared in a beating. The Klingon doctor ordered an end to my interrogation when he saw that they'd damage me beyond usability.

Ho: Did the beatings and the sexual assaults end after this first interrogation?

Kirk :… No. They did get back to it once in a while.

Jenning: Thank you, Captain. I'd like to hear Doctor McCoy's version of these events. Doctor, you've been in surgery over the last week, but you have been cleared by the medical department to attend this hearing.

McCoy: Yes. I'm fine, I'm off the painkillers today and able to make certifiable statements.

Jenning: Let me start by saying that you have both have my deepest sympathy for what happened.

McCoy: Thank you. Can we please go ahead?

Jenning: Do you agree with Captain Kirk's report of the first interrogation?

McCoy: As far as I remember it, I do.

Jenning. You do not remember, for instance, what information exactly the Captain has given to the Klingons.

McCoy: No, I don't.

Jenning: But it happened in your presence.

McCoy: Yes, I guess so. But I was quite out of it, from the dehydration and the pain.

Jenning: Did you ask him to betray his oath?

McCoy: I have no idea. It's possible that I said something at some point that could be interpreted that way. But we'd agreed beforehand that we both may have to give our lives to protect the information.

Jenning. Would you have had valuable information?

McCoy: Oh yes. I knew most of the hospital ship reorganization and the new support lines. I also had worked on new life sign scanners with the engineering department, which would be useful in a war. But the Klingons never asked me anything. On Qo'noS, doctors aren't really taken seriously. I guess they didn't realize that in Starfleet, it's different.

Jenning: If they had asked you, would you have given them information in exchange?

McCoy: … Maybe. But as I said, they never asked me.

Jenning. The Captain said that at a certain point, he gave up on you. Do you think that's true?

McCoy: Yes. You've got to know, we talked about some…possibilities beforehand. Actually, over the thirty years we've known each other, we've been in quite a few tight situations, so it's not as if we don't know each other down to the core. I knew that seeing someone suffer was so much harder on him than to suffer himself. So when there was that one moment in which they allowed him to give me some water, I told him not to. Dehydration can be a rather deadly thing for humans, and I gathered that under the conditions, I'd die rather quickly. He got the point and stopped.

Jenning: He stopped giving you water?

McCoy: Yes.

Jenning: But that would have killed you.

McCoy: Well, yes, but that seemed a better option at that time than the alternative.

Jenning: He was willing to accelerate your dying?

McCoy: He was willing to let me go quicker, with less pain. A captain always has to be able to let someone go, no matter how close.

[Rustling and whispers in the audience.]

Jenning: But the plan failed.

McCoy: Yes, they brought on a doctor - I later learned that he was an assistant to the Empire's Master Surgeon - and the doctor stopped them. That's how we found out there was a limit to what the Klingon interrogators were allowed to do to us. They took me down and we were allowed a little break before they started with Jim.

Jenning: Were you awake enough to follow the events?

McCoy: Mostly. I've been given water and a dose of painkiller, and they tied me to his chair.

Jenning: Was the Captain tortured to gather information?

McCoy: Well, they certainly tried, but he didn't tell them anything.

Jenning: Although they beat him.

McCoy: Yes. Also with pain sticks.

Jenning: And humiliated him.

McCoy: Tried to.

Jenning: And sexually assaulted him.

McCoy: ... Yes.

Jenning: Would you have been willing to give them information to stop them?

McCoy: Not at that point. I know Jim Kirk. He can take a lot, as long as he's the target. It rather makes him stronger and more resistant, instead of breaking him.

Jenning: We're talking about rape here, aren't we? And you want to tell me that it's something a man could just take?

McCoy: … This man, yes.

Kirk: It wasn't the first time in my life something like that happened to me.

Jenning: And how did you deal with it at that time?

Kirk: Got over it and moved on.

Jenning: And you did the same here?

Kirk: Yes. Of course, Doctor McCoy had a significant part in dealing with it. But let's face it, this interrogation was only the starting point of more than two years of grinding imprisonment. If we hadn't been able to deal with the events one way or the other, we wouldn't have survived and kept our sanity.

McCoy: The Klingons had been right on target with using me for getting information from Jim, but they wanted too much too fast. If they'd been a little more sophisticated…but the way they brought me down seemed too final, that's why he was willing to let me go.

Jenning: And you simply sat there and watched your partner being abused, Doctor McCoy, without thinking of doing anything to stop them?

McCoy: There wasn't anything I could do. And as a doctor, you quickly learn to detach yourself from pain…that of others and your own. It's not like we haven't been prepared for a pretty nasty future after being convicted to life sentences on a penal asteroid.

Jenning: I see. What happened then?

McCoy: Once again, it was their doctor who put a stop on it. Chang wanted to be able to show us around as trophies to his blood-thirsty troops, so he wasn't keen on missing teeth or eyes. They put us in a little cell that was to become our home for a while. It was about two times two meters, with one narrow, hard bunk and a little toilet and shower unit. The light was always on.

Jenning: Were there further interrogations?

Kirk: Not as organized as the first one. They resorted to other methods, like putting psychological pressure on us, forcing us into stress positions for longer time spans…off-holding food or offering us half-rotten meat…that kind of treatment. They'd obviously done some research on human psychological make-up, but they had a tendency to move on to violence rather quickly, which detracted from their intended psychological abuse.

Jenning: Did you betray more secret information about the 'Fleet during those times?

Kirk: … At times.

Jenning: To protect Doctor McCoy?

Kirk: … At times. But it also became a kind of game for me. I wanted to find out things from them by feeding them tidbits. I offered a calculated mix of truth and lies. I needed something to keep my mind going, because the time in the cell was at the same time incredibly dull and extremely straining.

Jenning: Did they ever find out the lies?

Kirk: A few times.

Jenning: And punished you for it?

Kirk: Well, yes. But it was worth it, because them calling my bluffs gave me further insights. For example, that the Maret sector was weakly protected. It was valuable information for our resistance group later.

Jenning: So you betrayed secrets over the full time of your imprisonment?

Kirk: Nothing I considered very valuable, but yes, I did.

Jenning: What did you think about that, Doctor McCoy?

McCoy: We couldn't really discuss it, considering that we were monitored at all times. But Jim usually knows what he's doing. It was more like a game, like he said, and for both sides, I think. For all I know, the information was never really helpful for them, and still they kept coming back. Chang had other things in store for us, and we learned about that at a dinner with him that took place maybe two weeks after our arrival on Qo'nos.

Barstow: Quick question: Do you want a break?

Kirk: No, thanks.

Barstow: You want to talk about the dinner?

Kirk: Definitely. It's the reason why we're going through with this hearing at all.

Ho: I thought this is about your betrayal of secrets and the participation in Chang's propaganda program.

Kirk: Take it as you will.

Barstow: Gentlemen, please. Captain Kirk, you wanted to speak about the dinner. Please tell us why it was so important to you.

Kirk: It was important because it was Chang's big moment. It was organized well beforehand. We were given our own, freshly cleaned uniforms, and under surveillance allowed to shave. They wanted us to look good and healthy. We were brought out of our cell and led to a hall in which a long table was prepared. Precious dishes, glasses, gold cutlery. They wanted to impress us. They wanted to show us who was calling the shots. Chang was waiting in the middle of the table, dressed up Klingon style. It was a mockery of the dinner we have had on the Enterprise. This time, he was the host. The food was gagh, the drink blood wine. Besides Chang, a dozen other high-ranking Klingons attended. We were given translators, told to sit down and participate.

Jenning: You ate gagh?

Kirk: Yes. We've been on enough diplomatic missions in our lives to deal with such things.

McCoy: We've also been rather hungry. It wasn't much of an effort to overcome the first impulse of disgust.

Jenning: You weren't given enough food?

McCoy: Not really. They were careful with the water after almost killing me off, but kept us on a rather short leash when it came to food.

Kirk: Back to the dinner. Chang was in an effervescent mood. The Klingon Empire had won some first battles and pushed back our lines. The Klingons talked at length about how they'd bring down the homo sapiens club that was the Federation. Most of the remarks were intended to insult or humiliate us. As I said, we were the first trophies in this. But we also learned over the course of the evening that there had been a larger conspiracy.

Jenning: A conspiracy?

Kirk: Yes. When he got drunk enough, Chang finally told us all about it. How members within all three important forces had worked together towards the war. The Romulan Ambassador Nanclus. Chang and his allies on the Klingon side. And on the Federation side, Admiral Cartwright and Colonel West.

[Disturbance in the audience.]

Jenning: Admiral Cartwright and Colonel West?

Kirk: Yes. West was the one who shot the Federation President. And the person onboard the Enterprise who organized the assassination by hiring two crewmembers for the job, who manipulated the computer to show a wrong number of torpedoes in our databanks and who gave my personal log to the Klingons to use it against me in the trial was Valeris.

Ho: Lieutenant Valeris? The wife of Captain Spock?

Kirk: Yes.

[Increased disturbance in the audience.]

Barstow: These accusations are incredible.

Jenning: Hearsay, only hearsay.

Ho: Doctor McCoy, can you testify this statement?

McCoy: Yes. Chang told us in detail how the conspiracy had come to pass, and these were the names he gave us.

Ho: He may have lied.

McCoy: He had no reason to lie. We were his prisoners, and it didn't look as if we'd ever have the chance to report his words as we do today.

Jenning: Lies, all lies.

Ho: You are accusing the wife of Captain Spock of treason. In the past, he was a very close friend to you. You both endangered your life and careers to bring his body from Genesis to Vulcan. How will he handle this?

Kirk: Captain Spock is already informed and has taken measures.

[More disturbance in the audience. The Vulcan ambassador Storek appears.]

Storek: May I have the word for a moment?

[The commission agrees.]

Storek: Valeris, wife of Spock, has been arrested yesterday and gave testimony that she had been the agent behind the events on the Enterprise, as part of a larger conspiracy. Captain Spock has not known about the conspiracy. I have her detailed testimony on this disk. [Storek gives a disk to the commission.] She fully confirms the statements of Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy.

Kirk: We have further proof for our accusations, collected from various Klingon databanks.

[The Starfleet lawyer gives another data disk to the commission.]

Lawyer: The material was checked by experts and correlated with material secured by Starfleet forces on Qo'nos. It is authentic and supports the statements given today.

[The audience explodes.]

Barstow: The hearing is hereby closed until further notice.

The commission left. The camera focused on Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy, as the Vulcan ambassador joined them, engaging in discussion. The camera zoomed in on Kirk's serious face before the end of the transmission was signaled by the Starfleet emblem.

Spock stared at it for a moment without really seeing it. Nothing would be the same after today. Kirk and McCoy were willing to go for an honorable discharge from the service, and the hearing would likely end with that. Spock himself…he would have to make his own statements in front of another hearing soon, testifying to the world that even within a Vulcan marriage bond, the partner was able to keep secrets. No one would want to share everything with someone else, so he had never been suspicious about the aspects of which Valeris had closed him out. How could he have been so blind…but with the loss of his friends, the war and the many changes that had come upon him, he had been more than willing in the end to take up her offer of comfort. He remembered their first night together, the passion she had brought into their relationship. She adored him, and he had been proud when he presented her to his parents. The bonding had been approved by T'Lar, and the conception of a child, even outside of pon farr, had been welcome. Finally, an heir for the House of Sarek.

How useless.

Spock switched off his computer, diligently closing its top. In silence he sat through the last minutes until the end of the docking procedure, then took the line for diplomatic beam-down into the city. His passport was accepted and the beaming to T'Lar's residence instantly arranged. She obviously had announced his arrival well in time.

When Spock materialized just outside the house in the back garden, two guards were waiting for him. They no longer wore the traditional lirpas but standard phasers; since the war had begun, even on Vulcan the defense and security measures had been raised, so that now many modern weapons were in use. A development both logical and unpleasant, in Spock's opinion. This war had changed life even on planets that had not been in the direct line of battle.

The guards accompanied him inside and showed him to the main hall. It was empty but for T'Lar, who sat on her elevated chair.

He walked to her and knelt down. "Peace and long life, T'Lar," he said, raising his fingers in a Vulcan salute.

"Give me your thoughts," she said sternly, her face a mask. He closed his eyes, awaiting her mind touch. It was demanding and probing, many flickering questions darting around in his mind, challenging his control. When she finally released him, he swayed momentarily. A spot of headache grew between his eyes, expanding quickly.

"You did not know of her treason," T'Lar stated.

"No."

"Do you want to plead for her release?"

"No," he stated more harshly than intended.

"Why are you here?"

"I ask for dashaya, the separation."

T'Lar searched his face, then waved her hand. "Justice will be dispensed today, in the Hall of our Ancestors. You will accompany me."

He followed her in silence, always five steps behind her chair when her guards carried her around. She ignored him, and when they arrived at the Hall, he quietly took a place at the side while she was set down at her appointed place, as the master of ceremonies. At each of her sides, another two old Vulcans sat down, two men and two women. Together, they would pass the verdict.

"Bring her in," T'Lar said and clapped her hand.

Spock held his breath as Valeris walked into the Hall, two guards at her side. She was dressed in a bright-orange robe, the traditional color of the accused. He had not seen her for two months, and she was paler and thinner than he remembered her. She appeared controlled, but Spock could feel her tension and also her fear through the bond. He tried to shut her out; he did not want to experience her - anything of her - ever more. As she felt his closeness, she looked around, searching for him with his eyes. But he did not even want to give her the connection of their gazes, and looked at T'Lar instead. He had gone through all possible emotions in the course of the last two weeks, but today, it was important to feel nothing, to keep a tight control on himself, or T'Lar might refuse his wish as based on emotions.

"Valeris, daughter of T'Ker, you have confessed to treason of the Federation and Starfleet by participating in a conspiracy that cost the life of billions of sentient beings in this galaxy."

"I confessed nothing," Valeris stated regally, her chin held high. "You tore it from my mind. On Earth, these proofs will be worth nothing."

"On Earth, Kirk and McCoy testified the words of the Klingon general Chang."

"Hearsay," Valeris said. "Who knows what the imprisonment did to their minds -"

"You will not speak about these men like this," T'Lar thundered. "They are worth a hundred times more than you. They have tried to maintain peace and were willing to sacrifice their lives for this, while you and your fellow conspirators fostered a war that brought endless pain to this quadrant. This council is ashamed that someone like you could hide in our middle and call herself a Vulcan."

Valeris looked as if she wanted to comment on the emotional vocabulary, but was obviously too subdued now for more pertness.

"The council had decided to give you the choice. You may choose to leave the planet, in which case you will be brought in front of a Federation court for your treason. You will be forever banned from Vulcan and not allowed to return, neither alive nor your katra. Your existence will be purged from this planet as if you had never been born. No Vulcan shall ever speak your name and acknowledge your existence.

"You may also choose to stay, in which case you will be brought to Mount Seleya where you will undergo eternal kolinahr to control the dangerous emotions within you. After your death your katra will be released into the desert, as not to befoul the Hall of Ancient Thought."

"How can I choose between these two terrible options that will bring eternal oblivion upon me?" Valeris said, her voice slightly shaking. "And what will become of my daughter when I have to leave her?"

"She will be taken care of," T'Lar said.

"By him?" Valeris pointed at Spock. "He is never on Vulcan. He will not be a good father."

"Control yourself," T'Lar stated coldly, "and make your choice. Or we will choose for you."

"I don't want to leave Vulcan. I don't want to leave my family."

"So you choose the eternal kolinahr?" T'Lar asked.

Valeris blinked, and Spock could see her eyes glancing from unshed tears. "I do."

The bells rang three times, signaling that the verdict had been given. Valeris stood with her head bent, waiting to be led away, but looked up in surprise when T'Lar said, "Spock, come forward."

Spock left his seat and walked into the middle of the hall, feeling the eyes of the council on him.

"You asked for dashaya - the separation," T'Lar said.

"Yes."

"Spock - how can you do that to me?" Valeris asked, eyes widening. "The separation - it will not only break the bond between us, but also between me and our daughter! What will happen to T'Ra? She needs her mother!"

He didn't look at her - he didn't want to see her eyes, or hear her voice that had told him such sweet things and also such dark lies. Hands laced behind his back, ramrod straight and controlled in his demeanor, he spoke. "I demand the separation, as the marriage was arranged under pretense."

"I adored you, Spock," Valeris said. "Don't treat me as if I'm outcast!" she suddenly snapped and pulled him around on his shoulder. He looked down on her.

"You outcast yourself from this society," he said quietly. "And you lied to me and hid in your mind that you have been the organizer behind the events on the Enterprise. Because of you, billions died - and my best friends were imprisoned and tortured."

"Oh yes, this is not about billions - it is only about your important friends." Valeris brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I was relieved when they were gone. Do you know that they wanted you, in a physical way? That they had considered asking you to participate in their illogical behavior? They would have kept you from starting a family."

He was somehow not surprised to learn about this, but the only feeling that accompanied it was a faint regret about lost chances. "They were my friends. No matter what the future had brought, this friendship would have remained."

They faced each other, two pairs of hard, dark eyes. If there had been love, Spock thought, it was gone by now. At last, the truth between them uncloaked.

"Spock - the council will grant your wish," T'Lar's voice came in, cutting between them.

"No!" Valeris whirled around, but the men that had been in the background took a hold on her and brought her in front of T'Lar, forcing her on her knees.

Spock followed them, kneeling down on the stone floor to her left. Valeris' intense thoughts and emotions spilled over, now that they were so close, and there was hate and violence under a veneer of fear and distrust. His stomach turned, and a sick feeling added itself to his by now intense headache. He closed his eyes as T'Lar touched his face.

Unreal, it was unreal. None of this ever happened. He did not lose his wife. He did not see his family destroyed. He -

"It is done." The words came from far, distant. Someone slapped his face, trying to raise him from his stupor. Spock sunk to the side, having a hard time to shake off his weakness. At his right, they brought her away - his former wife, the wife that would be purged of the family history. She walked as dazed as he felt, holding her head with one hand. Someone offered him water, and he emptied the glass before he felt controlled enough to rise from the stones, accepting another man's offered hold.

For the first time in decades, he felt truly, ultimately alone.

*

With a chortled cry, Jim Kirk sat up in bed. Fighting down his panic not to wake his bed neighbor, he slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, firmly closing the door before releasing all of his late night dinner into the toilet.

Finally pulling himself up, he went to the washbasin and thoroughly washed his hands and face. He automatically checked his tongue. It was fine, of course, but the dream had brought back the memory in eerie clarity…the agonizing pain from the half-torn, half-cut tongue, the metallic taste, the sudden panic his body delved in as he almost choked on his own blood…the way he'd finally thrown up both the blood and the blood wine, to Chang' endless amusement.

He felt another heave coming and fought it down with a harsh sucking of air, angry and humiliated all at once. It just wasn't fair that of all the bad experiences of the last years, his subconscious always drove home to this particular scene. It also always reminded him of the fact that when it came to gory details of a human life, McCoy was a lot more resilient than he was...or at least than his stomach was. Annoyed with his own weakness, he splashed some more water in his face before rubbing it dry.

Towel still in hand, he stared at his pale face in the mirror. He'd felt a lot better onboard the resistance group's ship, over the course of the last four months. Being grounded had never been good for his mood, and being grounded and suspended, subjected to the hearing and basically locked up in this first class hotel to be kept away from reporters was driving him crazy. Due to the press, he couldn't even really go into the fitness area and resume the rigorous training he'd started back on the So'Duy, intense exercises which had made him remember his own body and its strength. Feel his own muscles, so to speak.

Actually, he thought darkly, one of the 'Fleet security officers had come into contact with his muscles already too, when the guy had been just too close in Kirk's comfort zone. McCoy had pulled him away and later, for the first time, had dropped suggestions about the two of them undergoing trauma therapy.

Damn it, Kirk thought. I don't need therapy. I only need to get out of this situation.

"Hey, Jim," McCoy said.

Kirk turned his head to look at his man, who leaned in the doorframe with a question in the blue eyes. He was glad that McCoy still didn't use the terrible o-word. "Are you okay?" was such a pointless phrase when it could be answered with anything from "yes, my headache is gone" to "yes, I still got all my limbs", and they'd soon stopped using it on Qo'nos.

"I need to get away from this place," Kirk said. "You coming with me?"

"Ready in a minute," McCoy said and vanished into the other room.

When they stepped out of their suite, all dressed and ready for their trip, their currently assigned guard stopped them.

"We're going to leave," Kirk said.

"Sir, it's three o'clock in the morning!" the man said, irritated.

"All the better. No press dogs around," McCoy said.

"You can track us any time," Kirk said, and raised his little bracelet which constantly signaled his position. He wasn't officially under arrest, Starfleet had said - time to see if that was true.

"What about security? If anyone wants to -"

"We're not important anymore, now that the alleged conspirators are being rounded up," Kirk said. "We're leaving on our own discretion. If anything happens to us, it's our business."

The man pondered his orders and options, but finally had to give in.

"Very well, Sir. Have a good day," he said and stepped aside to let them pass. When they were at the lift, they could see him agitatedly talking into his communicator. McCoy pressed the call button with the cane.

"Poor guy," McCoy said. Kirk shrugged.

In the hotel lobby, Kirk booked the fastest and best-equipped low-flight car they could offer. It was black and had the erotic touch of all high-tech vehicles. McCoy eased himself into the co-driver's seat and asked, "So, where are we going?"

"Don't know yet. First of all, out of this city…then east." Kirk quickly drove them out of the garage.

"Until morning?" McCoy asked amused.

"Right." The car gathered speed. Kirk didn't feel like talking, and McCoy picked it up and kept quiet.

Edging along the speed limit, Kirk raced the car over the highway towards the mountains. Once there, he took smaller roads and burned some of his tension away in the thrill of going around the curves of the winding, steep roads as fast and still safe as possible. Kirk was glad that McCoy was sound asleep, curled up in his seat; first of all, because it proved his point that it was their current situation, not something wrong with themselves, that kept them from sleep lately; and second, because he wouldn't have to deal with comments on his driving style. He opened his side window and let the cool night wind breeze through his hair; he whistled some songs that came to his mind, quietly singing the few snippets of lyrics he remembered. The roads were still empty when they came down the mountains and drove into Nevada.

At sunrise, Kirk stopped at a little café. McCoy woke up from the braking maneuver, and they bought two cups of coffee and then resumed the trip. McCoy soon dozed off again, and Kirk decided to go for Idaho. He hadn't been there since his childhood, but remembered gorgeous mountains, lakes and rivers. Feeling more relaxed than for weeks, he reduced the speed and enjoyed the sight-seeing on the way. Then, in a sudden thought, he switched on the little dashboard computer. It readily delivered information on their current position and direction. Kirk gave some quiet voice orders, starting a search in the "houses for sale" ads in the area, with a 300 miles radius. The console offered more than a thousand, which quickly reduced in number by his search criteria. Only three were left in the end, and Kirk decided to pick the one that looked the most inviting on the little picture. Suddenly having a goal, he picked up speed again and raced north, the sun to their right.

An hour later, he stopped in front of the house, and gently woke up McCoy.

"Where are we?" McCoy asked slightly confused.

"I was checking the house offers in the area, and this one came up. Looks good, doesn't it?" Kirk said, pointing to McCoy's right.

McCoy looked out of his window. The two-stored wooden house looked small but cute. It was painted a bright white, with red windowsills, and the twines that covered most of the walls gave it a look as if being embedded in nature itself. Behind it, there seemed to be open fields. There were no immediate neighbors.

"Nice," he said.

They went out of the car and walked around the house.

"Nice," McCoy repeated as they looked into the large, rather wild back garden with trees, bushes and a little shed. He leaned on the cane, assessing the size. "Two bedrooms?" he asked.

"Yes. A living room, dining room, pantry kitchen, two bathrooms."

"Nice."

Kirk laced his arm into McCoy's. "Anything else to say?"

"Can we have a look at the inside?"

"Yes. I informed the seller earlier. She should be waiting for us."

The woman who opened the main door was very old, surely more than a hundred and twenty years, in McCoy's judgment. She was sweet and welcoming and when she found out that they belonged together, she told them some stories about that nephew of hers who'd been gay and always had had such good-looking boyfriends. She seemed to have been quite enamored by them.

"Why do you want to sell?" McCoy asked when they were shown around the house. It looked as charming and cozy inside, a mix of white, natural wood colors and typical rural decorations, flowers and paintings. A bit of a time warp…

"I'm just too old for taking care of the house," she said. "I had a good life here, but you can't stop time."

Both men nodded.

"What about the furniture?" McCoy asked next. Most of it was beautiful; old but in a perfect state, it gave the house a warm, very human touch. Something they both could use at the moment.

"I'm going to live with one of my granddaughters," the woman explained. "Won't be able to take a lot of it with me. So if you want it…"

McCoy nodded. "I really like it," he said and met Kirk's gaze.

"Let's make it a deal," Kirk addressed the old woman. "We buy everything - the house and the interior as it is, and you take what you want out for yourself."

"Shouldn't we at least sleep on it for a night?" McCoy asked.

"He's right, Mr. Kirk. You should do that," the woman agreed.

"I don't want anyone else to have it," Kirk said, determined.

"There was nobody interested in it yet," the woman said. "Too old, too far away from the interesting cities, and too small for a family."

"I think it's perfect for us," Kirk said, eyes on McCoy. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes, it is." McCoy smiled.

"Then let's buy it now," Kirk repeated. He pulled out his identity card. They both had enough money in accounts - not even speaking about the salaries of the last years, which were suspended so far but would probably be released, at least McCoy's - to buy this house on the spot.

"If you're so determined…" The woman smiled, her face breaking into a hundred crinkles. "Take a seat in the living room - I'll be there with coffee in a minute."

"We don't need any," Kirk said.

"But I do," she said and winked.

Two hours later, the deal was done. The old woman agreed to leave the house as quickly as possible; she had already arranged most of her little move, and only few things were left to get sorted out.

"You'll always be welcome," McCoy said when they shook hands in the end.

"I'm just glad to know it's going to someone who loves it," she said simply. "I'll give you a call when all is settled. Good-bye, Doctor, good-bye, Mr. Kirk."

When they sat in the rented car, they looked at the house again.

"We've gotten ourselves a house in the countryside," Kirk said with a broad smile. "I think it's my best decision of the last decade."

"How far from San Francisco are we?" McCoy asked. "And where are we anyway?"

"We're in Idaho, about 700 miles from San Francisco."

"Sounds good," McCoy said. "Let's drive to a nearby town and get something to eat. I'm starving."

Kirk, whose every effort to get McCoy eating some more had been thwarted in the past days, gave his man an unbelieving gaze. "Food? Whoa. That's something new."

"As if you ate a lot lately." McCoy snorted. "And half of what you eat comes back out again."

"Everything will be fine when the hearing is over and we can move in," Kirk said, determined.

McCoy gave him a glance that spoke volumes about his opinion of them being able to put the last years behind them just like that, but Kirk only smiled. They'd be fine, no doubt about it. Statistics were for other people; they'd lived their whole lives against the odds, there was no reason to change that now.

*

His father's house was silent, already bathed in the shadows of nightfall, when Spock arrived. He had been invited to stay. His own house was more than half a day's trip away, and besides, he had never really spent time there; it had been Valeris' house, and with her gone and the child in a healer's care here, there was nothing that drove Spock to that estate. Instead, he quietly opened the main door of the house of his upbringing and would have walked straight to his room if not for his father stopping him on the way.

"Join me, my son," Sarek said and waved him into his office.

The office was Vulcanly clean and sorted, a light smell from the thousand of books on the shelves hanging in the air. The old-fashioned interior was belied by three consoles and the large view screen on the one free wall. The sound was off, but from the little symbol on the lower left, Spock could see that it was an incoming secured transmission from Earth.

"The second part of their hearing," Sarek said. "Take a seat."

"Father…"

Sarek looked at him. "Please."

Spock sank down into the overly large cushioned armchair that his mother had brought to Vulcan with her.

"Where is Mother?" he asked.

"She has already gone to bed. The events of the last days tired her; she did not feel well. T'Ra is with the healer." Sarek poured Spock a glass of watered D'Ra juice, a local cactus blossom.

Spock sipped from it three times, the traditional way of accepting offered water. Then he said, "T'Lar granted me dashaya. She who has been my wife chose kolinahr."

Sarek took a glass of water. "A sensible choice," he said. "What will become of your daughter?"

"The matter is not yet decided, but she will not join her mother," Spock said firmly. The memories of Sybok were still fresh. No child of his would grow up in the care of a traitor to Vulcan ethics and Starfleet oath.

"I offer help to find a foster family within our House," Sarek said.

"I thank thee. I will think about it." Spock placed the glass aside. On the view screen, the first pictures from the Federation meeting hall appeared. Silent figures moved from the back to the front as the room filled. At last, Kirk and McCoy entered together and took their seats behind the left front table. Spock was pleased to find McCoy's movements more fluid than three days ago, although the doctor still was using the cane.

Sarek switched on the sound and toggled on Vulcan transcription below the images. Amanda and he liked to compare the automatic translation to the original Standard, and often found minor errors that they could later submit as corrections to the linguistic database. "The limits of your language are the limits of your thinking," an old Earth saying said, and he had found this to be essentially true and an important lesson for his diplomatic service.

He looked at Spock, who sat slightly bent in the chair, hands tightly laced, defeat and fatigue mirroring in the weathered features. Considering that the testimonies of Kirk and McCoy had put an end to Spock's young family and possibly also to his career in Starfleet, Sarek could understand the emotions. He was, however, relieved that the two extraordinary humans had survived the imprisonment. There was nobody responsible for the events - and the war - but the conspirators, and they would be called to account.

Sarek took a seat as the hearing started with the commission entering the hall. There were Ho and Barstow, he noted, but Jenning was missing and substituted by Admiral Fitzpatrick, a very old man who kept quietly in the back.

Ho: Welcome to our second hearing for Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy. As you all know, this hearing had been stopped four days ago after their accusations made in regards of a conspiracy. As of today, twenty-three persons have been arrested. Lt. Valeris has decided to submit herself to Vulcan law and will therefore not being handed over to Federation authorities. Captain Spock is suspended at present. He currently resides on Vulcan but has agreed to return to Earth within the next seven days for a hearing to assess if he was informed about the activities of his wife, Lt. Valeris.

This hearing will proceed from the point it was stopped. The hearing's original focus was to assess if Captain Kirk has given secret information about Starfleet processes or techniques to the Klingon Empire and thereby violated his oath. It will also deal with the captain's possible participation in Klingon propaganda. Doctor McCoy, as the captain's life partner and fellow prisoner, agreed to testify with the captain. Both parties may refuse statements if they were to incriminate the other party.

Barstow: The latest events we spoke about were the dinner with Chang. You already reported his statements about the conspiracy. What happened after the dinner?

Kirk: The Klingons left the table and moved to another room on a lower level. We were ordered to join them. It was basically an orgy of blood wine. We were forced to have our share of it. They had their fun with us and eventually, the evening ended and we were brought back to the cell.

Barstow: What does "had their fun" mean in this context?

Kirk: Well, take a guess.

McCoy: Let's just say their idea of fun wasn't ours.

Barstow: In a preliminary hearing, you have given a list of names of the attending Klingons. In case the event should go to court -

Kirk: Then send us an invitation, by all means. We'll show up and testify. Until then, we leave the details of the evening to your vivid imagination.

Ho: Gentlemen, please… What happened afterwards?

Kirk: Shortly after that, our first show tour began.

Ho: A show tour?

Kirk: That's what we called it between us. It was a crossover between the old Roman tradition of triumphal processions and the newer tradition of sending show stars to the troops to raise their moral. We were shown around at various places in the Empire, to heat up the Klingon soul. It was a success. Chang knew what his warriors wanted. On the first tour, it was only Doctor McCoy and myself. For the second show, they brought in other high-ranking Starfleet personnel they'd captured.

Barstow: The Federation Secret Agency has been able to secure photographs of such an event.

Barstow lifted a picture. The camera zoomed in. It was rather dark and showed six men in Starfleet uniforms walking on a stage. They all wore iron collars and were linked together by chains, their hands obviously tied behind their back. In front of them, an angry Klingon crowd raised their weapons. In a second shot, the men could be seen kneeling, the uniforms showing dark stains. In this shot, McCoy and Kirk were recognizable at the very right, as the last ones in the chain gang.

Kirk and McCoy briefly looked at the pictures, then exchanged some quiet words.

Barstow: Are these pictures real?

Kirk: Yes. They must have been taken on the second tour.

Barstow: What are the stains on the uniforms?

Kirk: Anything from blood wine to spit… or worse.

McCoy: The Klingons' code of the warrior claims that it is dishonorable to stay alive in captivity; therefore, anyone who doesn't commit suicide right away has no honor to protect and is fair game.

Barstow: Tell us more about these tours. Please.

Kirk: The first tour had been rather short, and mostly took place in settings like Chang's dinner, with Klingon officers attending. For the second tour, we were transported in a small carrier, six men in a very small cabin. With the hands cuffed behind our backs, we had to sleep sitting on the floor, with our back against the walls. For everything we needed, we had to call and ask a Klingon guard. For the travel, we were given thin shirts and pants. For the shows, we had to switch into copies of our uniforms.

Barstow: Why copies?

Kirk: After a show, the copies were usually spoiled and ripped and could simply be discarded. Only on Qo'noS, we wore our own original uniforms when Chang ordered it. The shows on the second tour were for the normal troops. The Klingon propaganda was to make sure that everyone knew who the enemy was, and that he'd be beaten eventually.

Ho: Who were the other prisoners?

Kirk: They came from other Starfleet ships, mostly lieutenants and commanders. Admiral Misako was there for one show, but then he was brought away, possibly for interrogation on Qo'noS. We knew some of our fellow prisoners, but talking was difficult. The room was wired, so only non-essential information could be exchanged. We learned that the Enterprises was still flying under Spock's command, and bits and pieces about front lines. But officially, speaking was forbidden. Sometimes, the Klingons guards were lenient or wanted us to speak in the hope of gathering some valuable information. At other times, someone said a word and seconds later, a guard would pull him out and give him a beating. The rules were the same as on Qo'noS. The prisoners were kept presentable. Everything else was fair game. For the stage, we were handcuffed and chained together by the iron collars they put us in for the show. Klingons love martial bounds. Afterwards, there was usually a gathering with the few higher-ranking Klingon officers of the department.

Ho: On which they once again took amusement by abusing their Starfleet prisoners?

Kirk: Yes.

Barstow: We have a statement here from one Lt. Commander Chipoli. Do you know him?

Kirk: Yes, he was on the third tour with us. Glad to know he survived.

Barstow: He said that you barely spoke a word with anyone and mostly kept to Doctor McCoy. He had the impression that you both readily submitted to all Klingon orders, and that you were very detached from the suffering of other prisoners.

McCoy: On the third tour, Captain Kirk was still recovering from the larynx operation. Speaking was difficult for him.

Kirk: On the third tour, we've already been imprisoned for months. The incoming Starfleet prisoners were only weeks in Klingon captivity, and still had the spirit and energy to resist the pressure by fighting back. But we'd seen more than one good man paying with his life or sanity for that assumption.

Barstow: So you admit that only by collaborating with the enemy, you could survive for two years?

McCoy: … It was a fine line, all the time. A mixture of luck and that Chang had a special interest in Jim. Otherwise, we wouldn't sit here today. We both were close to death at one point or the other.

Barstow: Like Captain Kirk with the larynx injury?

Kirk: Yes. It was smashed on one of those party evenings in the middle of the second tour.

Ho: How did that happen?

Kirk: I was challenged to a bat'leth fight.

McCoy: What a farce. How was anyone supposed to stand such a fight when he was forced to sit around for weeks?

Kirk: I fought anyway. What else could I do? I think I fared well for a while, before the Klingon hit me with the blunt side of the bat'leth. It was supposed to hit my chest, but instead it smashed my throat. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the Klingon version of a sickbay, with Doctor McCoy at my side.

McCoy: It was a damn close call. I was watching the fight when it happened, and thankfully they let me go and help him. I managed to convince the Klingon doctor to let me do a surgery, since Chang wouldn't be pleased by Jim's death. It was difficult, but we managed to insert a new, synthetic larynx. It didn't really fit, but it was good enough for the moment.

Barstow: How long did the recovery process take?

McCoy: Several weeks. It was the middle of the tour, and they told me I'd have to make him fit enough to attend the shows. I was allowed to synthesize 20 g of neo-morphine sulfate to ease his pain. But he was forced on stage almost every evening. That didn't help. Eventually, we were brought back to Qo'noS where he could rest and recover.

Ho: Thank you for this report. I'm curious. You were only talking of male prisoners. What about female prisoners?

Kirk and McCoy exchanged a glance.

McCoy: Female POWs weren't sent to the stage, but were mostly singled out for sexual slavery. There's no nicer expression for that.

Barstow: Did you see any of them?

McCoy: Yes. Although the Klingons frequently ridiculed me and my profession, after the operation on the captain, their doctors called me on cases once in a while. The patients were usually young human women captured in the war, who had been subjected to Klingon brutality and abuse. They treated them like animals. A human's life was worth less than one of their dogs'. I remember one case very vividly. It was near the end of the second tour, and I was brought from the ship to a room on their local station. A young woman was lying on the bed, her left wrist chained to a bar at its head. She was nude and had been in Klingon captivity for two weeks, during which she had been repeatedly abused. She was in very bad shape and severe pain. She didn't speak a lot but she told me her name, rank, and the ship she'd been on. She asked me to help her. I told the Klingons she'd need surgery for her inner injuries but they only laughed in my face. In the end, all I could do was to slip the rest of neo-morphine into her hand.

Barstow: What did she answer?

McCoy: She thanked me and asked me to inform her parents... I should tell them that she had a quick death. I promised I would do that if I got home.

Barstow: Did you?

McCoy: I wanted to. When we were onboard the "Calypso", I asked the captain to research her parents' whereabouts. They had lived in the Delta Vega colony, which had been completely destroyed in a Klingon ambush. Her only brother fell in the war. He served onboard the "Starlight". That's why I'm telling her story today. There isn't anyone else to tell it to.

Silence fell over the audience as the true depth of the tragedy settled in.

McCoy: … I don't want to see people like her forgotten. I'm sorry if anyone thought I was detached from the suffering around us, but there's limit to what a man can carry around on his shoulders…

Barstow: … Do you want a break?

McCoy: No. I want us to get over with this hearing, as fast as possible.

Kirk: I think a break would be fine.

McCoy: No. Please. I want to proceed.

Kirk: Alright. Let's go on.

Barstow: These tours… how many were there?

Kirk: The second was by far the longest, we stopped counting after twenty stops. But there were four more tours, which roughly worked the same.

Ho: Did you try to escape over time?

Kirk: Twice before our actual freeing.

McCoy: Three times.

Kirk: Right, three times. Before the tours, on the first tour and on the fourth tour.

Ho: You forgot one failed escape attempt?

Kirk: They beat me so hard after the last that I had a partial amnesia. Doctor McCoy had to tell me about the events. We were kept under harsh surveillance and increased security measures for the rest of the tour. It wasn't worth another try.

Ho: And between tours, you were on Qo'noS, in the cell under the conditions you described in the first part of the hearing.

Kirk: Correct. Most of the time simply sitting around and waiting for what would happen next. And serving as Chang's personal amusement team, if called for.

Ho: In the course of the war, various Klingon propaganda material was collected. Partly only published inside the Empire, partly distributed within the Federation space. This was published six months ago.

A movie was displayed, with Kirk speaking in front of a Klingon audience.

Ho: In this movie, Captain Kirk, you state that the death of the Klingon Chancellor had been part of an official Federation plan. Is this movie a fake?

Kirk: No, it's real.

Ho: These were your words?

Kirk: I was forced to say them, but yes, these are my words. They only edited the voice to sound like the one I had before the larynx operation.

Ho: What happened to make you tell such a lie?

Kirk: Doctor McCoy had been severely injured by a Klingon. His survival was threatened, and Chang offered me a deal.

Ho: How did the injury come to pass?

Kirk: It was at one of the Klingon victory orgies on Qo'noS. Besides the two of us, three other captured Starfleet officers had to attend. We didn't know them. One of them was a young, female lieutenant. She was suffering from a head wound, but the Klingons wanted to have her attend anyway. Krol, one of Chang's aides, assaulted her. Chang himself didn't attend that night.

Ho: Was it normal that female POWs were brought to these gatherings on Qo'noS?

Kirk: It happened from time to time. But the gender didn't really matter, as long as they were humans they could humiliate.

Ho: No other Federation species was used like that?

Kirk: Not that I know of. Neither in the shows nor at such gatherings. It seemed to be a purely anti-human thing.

Ho: What happened then?

Kirk: Doctor McCoy wanted to protect her. He stood up to Krol and told him in Klingonese that it was unworthy of a warrior to abuse a wounded, weaker opponent.

Ho: Had he ever tried such a thing before?

Kirk: Yes, we both had. We knew their language well enough at that point, and showing strength towards a Klingon even when being in the weaker position often called upon their warrior ethics. It appealed to them. I've even gotten away with pushing a Klingon at times. But that night, it failed. Krol was drunken and aggressive, and he took a metal statue and started beating Doctor McCoy. He didn't even stop when the doctor went down to the ground, but kept banging away at him with the statue. It took two other Klingons to make him stop.

Ho: What was the result?

Kirk: Doctor McCoy was severely injured on the full left side of his body. The Klingon Empire's Chief Surgeon fixed the worst injuries. The arm and the ribs healed over time, but the leg kept causing problems. It effectively forced McCoy to stay in bed.

Ho: He was unable to walk?

Kirk: Yes. So when we should be shown around for another troop amusement not long after that, the Klingons threatened to leave him behind in the cell. He was in pain and feverish from reoccurring infections. Medical treatment was far and few between. I was extremely concerned. I pleaded with them and finally got the offer from Chang that if I made the statement that a Federation conspiracy had indeed been behind the assassination, he would ensure that McCoy would be granted a personal caretaker in my absence. I accepted. The average Klingon believed in a Federation conspiracy anyway, and Federation members would realize that the words of anyone who had been in the hands of the Empire for two years would have to be taken with a grain of salt.

Ho: The statement caused a lot of discussion on Earth and other Federation worlds.

Kirk: It did? I'm sorry.

Ho: That's all you've got to say? You were demoralizing our troops in the middle of a war.

Kirk: As I said, I presumed that everyone would realize that after two years of Klingon imprisonment, a statement by me wouldn't be worth a dime. And I was at a point where my partner was more important to me than playing a Federation hero.

Ho: Doctor McCoy, did you agree with the decision of Captain Kirk?

McCoy: No, I didn't, but it's not as if anyone can make him change his mind once he's set it up on something.

Ho: But you lived with the comfort the deal created for you.

McCoy: If you mean by comfort that I managed to get by in a drugged daze for two weeks... Chang ordered that I had to survive, but they didn't care much about their methods. When Jim got back, he was almost sorry he'd made the deal.

Kirk: Almost. But at least you were still alive.

McCoy: Yes.

Ho: After a while, no new material of you was published. What happened?

Kirk: A resistance group approached us through one of the guards. They would free me if I captained a ship for them. I agreed as long as Doctor McCoy would be able to come with me. They thought he would endanger our escape, and offered to help me freeing other imprisoned Starfleet personnel instead. I said no - I wouldn't leave without Doctor McCoy.

Ho: Again, a very personal decision.

Kirk: I thought that we'd suffered enough for kin and country. We were overdue for getting out of that hell. When the resistance group freed us and a few others four nights later, I carried him with me. On board, he finally could get some rest.

Ho: Why didn't you contact Starfleet immediately after having your escape?

Kirk: Considering what we knew about the conspiracy at that point, chances were that once we went back, we'd get arrested and nobody would hear us out. Besides, we didn't have hard proof. So we decided to find more evidence, and help the approaching Starfleet ships by chasing and kicking the Klingon forces in the Maret sector. This lasted approximately four months. Only when the Enterprise was shooting at us, we decided to leave the cover and contact Captain Spock.

Ho: Why was the Enterprise shooting at you?

Kirk: Captain Spock had orders to destroy my ship. He was strictly ordered to keep radio silence and not to contact us. It was obvious someone within the conspiracy's ranks knew about us and our possibly damaging knowledge.

Ho: How did you overcome those orders?

Kirk: I signaled surrender and sent them my old, secret code. Only Spock and Uhura knew how to decode it. They went me a message back with Spock's code. That's when I knew it had to be him. I signaled them and we got into contact.

Ho: You submitted yourself to Starfleet authorities soon afterwards, in this case the "Calypso". Why not to Captain Spock?

Kirk: We didn't want to make the dilemma we'd put him in any worse. He had been our best friend before the war, but he had also married one of the main conspirators - unbeknownst to him - and therefore we had to make sure that he wouldn't be forced into a conflict right ahead.

Ho: For this hearing - how is your own judgment about your behavior in Klingon captivity?

Kirk: We did what we had to do to survive. I did a few things I wasn't very proud of, but pride is rather expensive when you're trying to persist under such a continuous threat for life and health.

Barstow: Other Starfleet POWs were in a similar situation but didn't participate in making propaganda material for the Klingon Empire.

Kirk: All the better for them. I wouldn't wish the choice between an oath to an institution or the life of a dear friend and partner on my worst enemy.

McCoy: We both had been at points where we considered death…or suicide… a valid option. But one reason we always stepped back from it was the realization that neither of us wanted to leave the other behind. And a second reason was that we wanted to be able to return to uncover the conspiracy. That was motivation for us. For over two years, we'd been under the Klingons' constant pressure. While we were in uniform, we were at least the enemy. When we were out of it, only humans that rated below their animals. The only thing that finally mattered was to survive and get back home together.

Barstow: You definitely achieved that. Thank you, gentlemen, for your very open report, which at times was very hard to listen to. The ruling of the commission will follow within the next days. Please stay on Earth until further notice.

Kirk: We'll be at our new house. Just give us a call.

Ho: Thank you. The hearing is thereby closed.

The transition ended with a zoom to the commission, as the men went up and left the room. Sarek switched it off and looked at Spock. His son had the hands together, fingers aligned like a fan. The forefingers resting on his lower lip, he seemed deep in thoughts, an unfocused look in his eyes.

"When will you return to Earth?" Sarek asked, deliberately disrupting the silence.

Spock looked up, heaving a deep breath. "My flight will leave tomorrow morning. Everything is arranged."

"The hearing will undoubtedly clear you of all accusations," Sarek stated, and it was no question.

"It will." Spock went up, unwilling to pursue this conversation. His control was challenged enough today - he needed to be alone now. He was already in the door when Sarek said, "Commander Uhura called today. She asked me to relay her deepest sympathy and best wishes to you." Sarek paused briefly. "She is a woman full of character. Is it correct that she was also suspended?"

Spock turned back. "Yes, she and Mr. Scott, as my other old acquaintances, have been temporarily suspended until the details of the conspiracy will be cleared. A very unfortunate turn of events."

"She did not seem to interpret it this way. She said it gave her time for a trip home to Earth, to see her family. She also will attend a language conference in Los Angeles in three days." Sarek paused again. "I was very impressed by her when I came to know her in the course of the events following your death. An exceptional woman, with great skills and a great heart, as humans would say. I had the impression she cares for you."

"We are old friends." Spock frowned. "What is your intention in speaking about her in this manner, father?"

"I only wondered if she might not be a good companion for you," Sarek said.

"A - wife?" Spock raised a brow. "After the experience of today, it is not likely I will undertake a similar experiment for the time being."

"That is why I wanted to speak to you tonight," Sarek said and went up from his chair. He walked up to Spock, facing him straight. "I once was in your situation," he said, "separated, having lost wife and son. I fled to Earth, leaving my son in his mother's care. I do not regret this decision, as it allowed me exploring emotions in a way I had not considered before, choosing to live as a Vulcan, but tempering logic with warmth by marrying your mother. But I regret that I left my son in the care of others for too long. I lost him. I do not wish to see another child of this house being lost over the separation of the parents."

Spock looked away.

"You were given the great gift of friendship from your comrades, and a second chance to live. Do not let this new life be poisoned by the loss you experienced today. You have followed the hearing - how your friends, after having gone through this challenging experience, are already building their future. This is what you also need to do - move on." Sarek fell silent, watching Spock's face, half-hidden in the shadows.

At last, Spock turned his head to him. "I - understand," he said. "I agree with your general assessment of the situation. However, I cannot move on yet. I need time."

"I agree," Sarek relented. "A loss of bonding is never taken lightly. But do not let the time of indecision pass for too long." He folded his hands. "I will go to bed now. You should see after your daughter."

Spock raised a brow. "I assumed she would be asleep."

"Listen into yourself, and you will find the answer," Sarek said. "Good night, my son, and if we do not see each other again before your departure - safe journey."

"Good night, father." For a moment, Spock remained in the room, waiting until the steps vanished in the night. Then he left too, walking upstairs to the room assigned to the healer and his daughter. In front of the door, he paused and listened. There was no sound, but once he focused on himself, he caught a flittering energy, barely tangible. He opened the door to find the baby - his daughter - awake in the healer's lap. The woman tilted her head in a greeting gesture, focus still on the child.

He sat down on the second chair and offered his arms. She passed the child to him, and he carefully cradled it. In another life - or so it felt - Doctor McCoy had placed a newborn child into his arms, and Spock had been at loss what to do with it. It had only been an inconvenient deterrent from their duties, a complication. But he remembered well the doctor's enamored behavior, his rapture about this new life. Spock wished he were able to feel the same emotions, but they escaped him. He had seen T'Ra only once, briefly after her birth, and while he knew that even Vulcans were encouraged to bond emotionally with their children, he felt detached and disconnected from the little existence in his arms.

"Touch her like this," the healer said softly, and pointed with her aligned fore- and middle finger at the baby's temple.

Spock shifted position to free his hand, then mirrored the gesture. He involuntarily closed his eyes as he felt the surge of the connection. The energy was raw, the thoughts unformed, but there was a mind developing, ready to grow and explore the world outside. A surge of love and devotion blazed through him, a sudden realization of the depth of his responsibility and the chances he was offered. Without thinking, he weaved his parental bond from a thin thread into a strong, reliable rope, with all the commitment and determination he could find in himself, wanting his daughter to know that he would be always there for her.

He blinked as he broke the contact, and was ashamed to feel a stray tear on his cheek. He quickly brushed it aside, but the healer only nodded, approval in her features.

"You have done well," she said, and offered her arms. He gave her the sleeping child, for all his sudden fatherly feelings still unsure how to handle a baby.

"I need to leave tomorrow," he said. "It cannot be postponed. But I will return as soon as possible."

"Now that you have bonded with her, you can channel positive emotions into the bond, even from a distance," she said. "I recommend you do this in regular intervals. This will make her feel protected and give her psychic stability." She went up and put the child to bed.

"What about the bond that was broken today?" Spock asked as he watched the procedure.

"A Vulcan child will never forget such a thing, but she will understand," the healer said. "She will understand through you."

Another responsibility, Spock realized. He would have to learn to temper his current anger about his former wife, dampen the hurt and shame he felt for having fallen for her lies. Their daughter should not know the amount of loss and regret he felt tonight, In fact, the short moment he had with her had already reduced some of his emotional strain. Maybe it was not only his destination to protect her, but also hers to protect him, from withdrawing and closing out the emotions that he had so carefully kindled in his second life. Bending over the cradle, he smiled down on T'Ra. "Sleep well, my child," he whispered.

Then he turned to the healer. "I thank thee for being with her. She could have no better caretaker right now."

She bowed her head. "Good night, S'haile," she said, not commenting on his unusual praise.

He took his leave from the infirmary, and retreated into his own room. It seemed cool and empty, and he switched on several lights and finally the console, checking for message. There were several, but most of them irrelevant. One was from Earth, and while the address was unknown to him, he instantly saw who had sent it.

"Hello Spock.

Everything's in uproar here, but we manage just fine. Set up a house on the countryside. Went riding because it's supposed to be good for Bones' leg, but he hates it. We're still very sorry for your loss and hope all will get settled soon. Our house is your house. Come and stay whenever you feel like.

All our love - Jim and Leonard."

Spock sighed softly. Who would invite him like that after having suffered through the ordeals they testified in the hearing? After all, it had been his arrogance that had started the events. He did not deserve such friends, and felt unworthy of their continuous interest in his well-being. The commissioner had been correct - they had put their careers and life already at stakes for the fal-tor-pan, and this was how he had paid it back to them. It would take some time for him to deal with the aftermath. He would visit them some day in the future…but not yet.

He closed the console and started packing, deciding to leave for Earth with the very next flight. The sooner he left, the sooner he could return home to Vulcan.

*** Four months later ***

"The grill's hot. Everything's ready for the barbecue." In the middle of the large back garden of their house, Jim Kirk rubbed his hands, dusting off the saw from the fire wood.

"That's perfect." McCoy drew near and put his arm around his man's hips, lacing his forefinger into the back pocket of the tight jeans. "This is going to be a great weekend." He looked over the grill…the table, the chairs, dishes, forks, knifes, paper napkins…everything seemed to be ready. Now, there was nothing left to do but waiting.

"I'm going to take a shower before they come," Kirk said.

"There's still time," McCoy said. "Why don't we take a little break?" He took one of the quilts and spread it out on the ground beneath the apple tree, then pulled Jim down with him.

"Oh, great idea," Kirk murmured and yawned a little. "Barbecue preparation is hard work."

For a few minutes, McCoy simple lay there, the head propped up on one hand, the free hand caressing over Kirk's chest, eyes fixed on the face of his lover.

"What are you thinking?" Kirk asked finally, sleepily.

"That this new, dark red shirt looks perfect on you. And that I want to make love to you."

"I had something about fucking me senseless in my ear." Kirk grinned.

"I think making love is a lot nicer." McCoy crouched to his knees and over Kirk's legs. "Jim, beautiful," he whispered and bent down to slip his hands under Jim's shirt. That was one of the leftovers from Qo'noS - they both needed to be able to look into each other's eyes during sex, being sure at all times that this wasn't some Klingon assaulting, but joyful sex with a lover. They had tried it differently, a while ago, and Jim had flipped out in the middle of it, caught in a flashback that needed some serious talking from McCoy to bring him out of it.

But today, there was no danger of anything like that happening. The day was bright and warm, the sky blue, and their mood incredibly good. McCoy pushed the shirt higher, caressing the slim, shiny chest in adoration. Old fascinations died hard; a good thing Jim catered to this particular one by still shaving.

"Aren't our guests supposed to arrive soon?" Kirk gazed at him with half-closed eyes.

"The flight always runs late," McCoy said, his fingers opening Jim's fly. "There's enough time for this."

Kirk laughed and laced his right hand into McCoy's hair. "That's fine," he whispered and pulled McCoy down into a deep kiss. Then he started unbuttoning McCoy's white shirt. The skin beneath was soft, the hair furry with an eclectic color mix of dark and grey. Kirk stroked through it, feeling their joined arousal and reveling in it. Life was good.

*

The small, hidden country house lay in silence when Spock and Uhura arrived, and on the front door, nobody answered their call. Uhura suggested trying the back garden. They placed their bags to the ground at the side of the house and indeed, their hosts were in the garden, in the shadows below a tree.

"Guess I should've told them that I got tickets for the earlier flight," Uhura said a little guiltily. "But these flights are always running late, and I didn't want us to arrive that late."

Spock was about to open the little garden door as Uhura suddenly held him back. "Wait!"

Spock froze on the spot. "What is the matter?"

"We can't disturb them right now," Uhura said in a low voice.

Spock looked at the two men in the garden again, and raised a brow when he saw one crouching over the other and settling on the legs. They exchanged some words, then the man on the ground pulled the kneeling figure into an intense kiss.

"They're busy," Uhura said and nudged Spock away from the little door. "Let's go for a walk." She took the little path away from the garden into the next green field.

"I'm so glad they seem to be so happy together," she said at last, as they had walked for some minutes. The wind softly tousled her yellow summer dress. "They've earned it."

"Indeed."

She shed a glance at Spock, then eased her hand into his. He took it in a gentle hold. Their romance was still new and the development, although logical in Spock's opinion, something strange to her. Thirty years ago, she had had a crush on the Vulcan, but as that had found no basis to grow, it simply turned into a deep friendship. That after all those years Spock would approach her was unexpected, and she had had some doubts about her own feelings - and his motives. Spock had just been separated from Valeris, and she wondered if she was only a stopgap for some lose emotional ends. It had taken him some time and slow courtship to prove to her that he had seriously thought through his motivations, and that she wasn't simply second best.

The idea of turning friendship into relationship was in contradiction to the general human attitude that saw love as something to simply fall in, but Uhura knew that this way of development had, if not the feel of a head-over-heel crush, then a fundament built on strong feelings and devotion (oh, what a word). And after their first real night together, the question of just how passionate a Vulcan could be had been answered to her full satisfaction. Spock loved her, and took great care that she was aware of that. And she loved him, even more each day, and if everything went as planned, they would fly to Vulcan together after their stay with Jim and Leonard so that she could meet Spock's daughter T'Ra.

Spock had assured her that his choice was not influenced by the question of his daughter's future, but Uhura realized that this was slightly bending the truth. Family was important to Vulcans, and she hoped that she would be able to build a good rapport with T'Ra. She had loved children all her life, but her career and the lack of a fitting partner had never allowed having some of her own. A step-daughter might be just the late, surprising chance to remedy this.

"How much farther do you want to walk?"

She stopped on track, and took in her surrounding. Looking back, the garden was a rather small spot in the distance. "Seems I got a little lost in my thoughts."

"Indeed," Spock said, a twinkle in his eyes.

She smiled. The great thing about a Vulcan - or maybe only this particular one - was that he never asked typically male questions like "what did you think about?" A little touch telepathy got a long way. "We could turn around and see if they're ready to welcome us," she said.

"We could also enjoy the view together," Spock replied. He pulled her close and placed his free hand on her cheek to guide her into a kiss.

"Spock…" Uhura said a little breathlessly when they parted. She felt her cheeks flushing like a teenager.

"I gather they will not wonder about our late arrival." He slipped his hand into her dress and stroked her shoulder.

"Spock, I really don't think that's the right place for something like that," Uhura said a little alerted.

"Nobody is here," he said. "The fields are high. Let us go into them."

"I haven't had sex in the outdoors for decades. And I remember that it wasn't that comfortable."

"Let me make it comfortable for you," Spock whispered and kissed her again, his tongue briefly slipping across her lips in the way that never failed to make her weak in the knees. His free hand moved lower and covered her breast, gently rubbing her nipple.

Who could say no to such an invitation? She sighed and followed him into the field, where he fully kept his promise.

*

When Spock and Uhura later rang at the main door for the second time that afternoon, it was opened to them by a cheerful Jim Kirk. They all embraced each other, and were just done when a freshly showered McCoy joined them. He put a playful kiss on Uhura's forehead and crushed Spock in a bear hug.

"I'm so glad to see you," McCoy said, all smiles.

"And before we forget it…" Kirk straightened and saluted Spock. "Captain Spock, congratulations on being cleared from all charges and having returned into the command of the Enterprise." McCoy nodded cheerfully.

"Thank you, Admiral," Spock said formally.

McCoy rolled his eyes over the title and closed the main door as they all stepped into the house. "Yeah, a last kick in the butt from them."

"As with the Kobayashi Maru - they could either kick me out or give me a medal. They did both, just the other way round," Kirk said good-naturedly.

"They had no other option after your hearing," Spock said. "However, your testimonies strongly helped my case."

"We didn't believe for a second that you were involved. Chang wouldn't have kept that from us."

McCoy laced his arm into Uhura's, ready for a change in discussion. "You know you're our first guests here?"

"What did you do with the others?"

"Just didn't open the door to them," McCoy said, and Uhura wasn't sure if it was a joke.

"Kidding," Kirk said, and led them into the living room. "For meetings, we leave the house. But otherwise, this is our hideaway."

"I am honored," Uhura said.

"Oh, Spock had a standing invitation. We're glad he finally made it."

"So I'm only the add-on?"

"The most beautiful of all." McCoy placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Doctor -" Spock said.

"I'm just in a perfect mood today, Spock. And no, I won't steal your lady. I've got all I want." McCoy smiled at Kirk, who smiled in return.

"Your leg healed perfectly, didn't it?" Uhura said, amused to see her former officers as such love birds.

"Oh yes. But darn, I wished they'd improved modern medicine just a little more."

"You can always do that."

"Maybe, maybe not. I feel rather retired at the moment."

"You don't look like," Uhura said. "In fact, you both look energetic and healthy. Must be all the fresh air."

"Guess so," Kirk said, and granted her an amusing little flush of red on his cheeks. "By the way, I brought your bags in already."

Touché. Uhura felt her cheeks warming. "Thanks. We thought we'd go on a little walk."

"I hope the field was comfortable." McCoy twinkled, and picked a straw from her dress.

"You're impossible," she stated. "I'm going to change."

"Oh, don't," Kirk said. "Come on, let me show you around the garden. See you in a minute, Spock." He ushered her out of the back door and vanished around a corner.

"Prince Charming." McCoy laughed. "Oh Spock, relax! He hasn't charmed a woman for years. Allow him a moment of fun."

"I do not begrudge them this moment, doctor," Spock said, arms clasped behind his back. "I would rather have some water before further inquiring the beauty of the countryside."

McCoy slapped his forehead. "Of course!" He walked to the kitchen corner and opened the fridge. "We've got water with or without sparkles, various juices, coke, and nonalcoholic beer." His hand waved over a large collection of bottles, below which several levels were filled with food - enough to feed a company.

"I prefer sparkling water at room temperature."

"We've got the same collection at room temperature." McCoy closed the door and picked up a bottle from the floor. "Water, as asked for." He poured them both a glass.

"If you feel like having something stronger," McCoy said as they walked back into the living room, "there's Jim's bar with a few bourbons. Feel free to have a glass."

"So you really don't drink alcohol anymore?" Spock asked, curious. "Why?"

McCoy looked down on the bottles, before he lifted his eyes to meet Spock's. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I'd tell anyone else, but you're an exception," McCoy said slowly. "Did you follow the hearing?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well, it was the part we didn't want to talk about. The first evening with Chang, on which he told us about the conspiracy."

"You declined testimony on the events of the night."

"Exactly. In the cellar, with the blood wine…they forced me to drink lots of it. Held me down and poured the stuff into my mouth, and when I threw up, they forced me to have even more, before they pushed me into the mess. They ridiculed and insulted me for being a drunkard and helping them killing off Gorkon. God knows they were right, I've had too much Romulan Ale that night on the Enterprise, and that was the price I gotta pay. But that was only the beginning of a hellish night. Chang wanted to drove home the point that he'd be able to do anything with us - and to us - and boy, did he achieve that. Nothing was as bad before or after that night. Like devils let loose from the blood wine, they were completely unforeseeable in their sadism. The interrogation was tame in comparison. That night, Chang taught us that we didn't have any control left at all. The goal was breaking us, and a bit of us broke for sure. We managed to live with the pieces, but Chang just had to order us to a dinner, and we were, well - subdued. Intimidated. Chang was crazy, in that brutal way successful dictators are. They make you tiptoe around them. They make you think, spare me and take the other one. In this case, we both closed our eyes to what happened to others as long as we could."

"You risked your health for a fellow prisoner," Spock observed.

"But Chang hasn't been there that evening. If he had been…I'd have looked away." McCoy did just that. "When I was so badly injured, Jim begged Chang for my life. On his knees. I hated knowing that I was his biggest weakness. I wanted to die."

"You were also his strength. He would have died without you."

"Yes, we were both each other's strength and weakness. After the escape, we had the time and freedom to acknowledge some things between us. And after the hearing…some more subjects to deal with."

"It must have been very strenuous, emotionally."

"That's an understatement."

"But you held up very well," Spock added. "I was impressed, as my father was."

McCoy smiled lightly. "Thanks for the compliment. You should give it to Jim too, he wasn't really satisfied with himself afterwards."

Outside, Jim Kirk and Uhura walked around the corner. Uhura had flowers in her hands, blue and red dots in front of her bosom. They laughed together with the ease of old friends, then proceeded to chat animatedly about something the men in the living room couldn't understand.

"Are you happy?" McCoy asked softly.

Spock looked outside, his eyes on Uhura. "As you well know," he said quietly at last, "wounds do not heal overnight."

"No," McCoy agreed. "But it's helpful to have something worth living for."

"I certainly have that."

"That's good." McCoy gently put his hand on Spock's shoulder. "Let's go outside and join the others."

They walked through the door to the garden together, sitting down with their loved ones, four people who knew how easily good things were lost and that every day was something to be cherished. And if you were very lucky, friendship and love could be found right next to you.


End file.
